


Dost Thou Crave Potatoes?

by CabbageOriley



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Chubby Stiles Stilinski, Cravings, Intervention, M/M, Mpreg, Nesting, Potatoes, Pregnancy, Unplanned Pregnancy, Weight Gain, all the potatoes, baby weight
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-01
Updated: 2021-02-20
Packaged: 2021-03-18 18:42:29
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 21
Words: 34,334
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29122851
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CabbageOriley/pseuds/CabbageOriley
Summary: How shall I cook thee?  Let me count the ways.Curly.  Wedged.  Baked...Or, Stiles suddenly craves potatoes of any kind.  As he starts to gain weight the pack stages an intervention...  Only to find out there's more than spuds in Stiles' belly.Sounds like a crack story, but it's actually taken seriously.
Relationships: Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski
Comments: 248
Kudos: 817





	1. Curly Fries

Curly fries. They’ve always been one of Stiles’ favorite foods. He literally wrote an ode to them when his class was first studying poetry in third grade. An ode about curly fries and a haiku about Lydia Martin. He got an A+ on both of them because his form was perfect, but his teacher clearly wasn’t impressed since they were supposed to be writing about the seasons.

So anyway, curly fries. He has adored them since childhood and regularly gorges on them whenever he has a craving. When he first moved in with Derek and started taking grocery shopping seriously, he had found the wonderful product that is frozen curly fries. They become a bi-weekly staple of their meal planning. The smell of them cooking and the sight of them piled on the plate is pure heaven.

Now, imagine his shock and horror when he goes to the grocery store on his weekly food run and finds that the shelf in the frozen food aisle is completely devoid of fries of the curly form. He eyes over the other frozen potato products but finds nothing that will satisfy his now rumbling tummy. He sighs and sends a picture of his sad, sad face to his boyfriend.

“You’ll live” is all he gets typed out in return. Jerk.

Stiles finishes up getting everything on his list and is almost finished when he heads down the baking aisle. Derek’s wanted to try this new brownie recipe and needs a specific type of chocolate. Stiles finds it and drops it into the cart. Turning, he sees the opposite side of the aisle contains a variety of cooking gadgets. One shiny item especially catches his attention. It’s a spiralizer. The packaging shows a rather large zucchini, but a brilliant idea comes to his mind.

\---

“Uh, Stiles?” Derek questions when he sees the boy come through the door with the grocery bags. “What on earth are all these?”

“What are what?” Stiles asks, setting the brown paper bags down on the counter.

“Those,” Derek points to the bag of potatoes.

Stiles looks at the bag and then looks back at him. “Those are potatoes, Der-bear.”

“I know that, Stiles, but that’s what…” he peers closer at the label on the netted bag, “ten pounds of potatoes!” He jabs both hands out in a pleading motion. “What are we going to do with ten pounds of potatoes?!”

With a flourish, Stiles pulls the spiralizer from one of the bags. “TADA!!!”

Derek doesn’t react, but that’s nothing new.

“It’s a spiralizer!!!”

“And?”

“Two words, Der. Curly. Fries.”

\---

Stiles takes a deep breath as the oil starts to bubble. He’d never fried something before so he didn’t realize he needed a cooking thermometer. Thus, he’s just going to wing it. Hoping it’s hot enough, he hovers a looping string of potato over the pan and slowly drops it in.

He whoops in victory as the oil erupts into foaming bubbles around the edges of the potato. “Derek!!! Derek! Look!”

Derek rolls his eyes as he comes up behind the boy. The man wraps his arms around his waist and rests his chin on his shoulder. “Good job, babe.”

“It’s cooking,” Stiles smiles.

“I can see that.” Derek pecks slow kisses up Stiles’ shoulder and neck. “Are you planning on cooking more than one?”

“Clearly,” he points his spatula toward the pile of spiral potatoes resting on a paper towel on the counter top. “This is just my test potato.”

He moans lewdly as Derek begins to suck a spot just beneath his earlobe. “Der, you gotta wait. No turning me on until I turn the stove off.”

“What if I…” Derek reaches forward and turns the knob on the stove that controls the burner.

“No… the oil was perfect. Do you see the golden brown?”

“Wanna see your golden brown…” Derek mumbles into his skin.

Stiles giggles. “Ew, babe.” Stiles turns around in Derek’s arms. “Gross. What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Don’t know. Just want you. In bed. Now.”

“But my potatoes…”

\---

Stiles finishes frying his curly fries about an hour later when he’s caught his breath and is freshly showered. He forces Derek to sit down at the table. He makes a big show of bringing all the food to the table. Especially the large platter of crispy, seasoned curly fries.

  
  


The bag of potatoes stares mockingly at the duo throughout the next week. Curly fries are awesome, but even Stiles admits he doesn’t want them with every meal. Slowly, but surely they use a couple potatoes at a time and finish up the bag. Derek makes him promise to never buy a ten pound bag again. Stiles easily agrees.

\---

It’s weird. While the potatoes were there, Stiles was looking for any excuse to make a meal with potatoes just to get rid of them. But, now that they’re gone, he kinda sorta misses them. He’s lying in bed one night and is suddenly unable to sleep. This feeling of anguish and missed opportunity rushes over him at the thought that he never tried to make any other potato goodness while he had the chance. Yeah, curly fries are awesome, but so are potato wedges, and hash browns, and french fries, and baked potatoes… mashed potatoes… potatoes au gratin… potatoes o’Brien…

He can barely force himself to go to sleep, but he finally succeeds, wrapped securely in his boyfriend’s arms.

\---

Stiles always finds it hard to sleep when Derek is on night shift at the Sheriff’s Station, but tonight is even worse. For the second night in a row, he is plagued by obsessive thoughts about potatoes. Just laying there staring at the ceiling isn’t doing any good, so he sits up and grabs his laptop. He remembers Allison squealing over Pinterest recipes when she first married Scott, so he pulls up the foreign looking site and starts snooping. “Potato recipes” he enters in. Suddenly, photo after photo appears of delicious looking potatoey goodness. He scrolls for a few minutes before smacking his computer shut and flopping backwards on the bed. This is crazy. Absolutely crazy. It’s after one o’clock in the morning…

About forty minutes later, Stiles is entering the loft with a gorgeous five pound bag of potatoes. He washes the tubers and prepares everything he will need. He uses a knife to dice the potatoes as well as an onion and a green pepper. Add a little oil in the skillet, and pretty soon a delicious meal is waiting to be devoured. He scoops the dish out onto a plate, grabs a fork and starts eating. With his belly full, he curls up under the covers and slips into a sound sleep.


	2. Potato Wedges

Derek arrives home after his late shift, toes off his shoes by the door, peels out of his uniform, and gently lies down in bed. Within seconds, Stiles, though asleep, has wrapped his limbs around Derek like an octopus. The wolf winces at the onion breath invading his sensitive nostrils. He doesn’t mean to gag.

“Wats’wrong?” Stiles mumbles.

“Your breath. What did you eat?” He laughs.

Stiles smiles. “Mmmm, new recipe. I ate it all, but I’ll make it for you sometime.”

“I think I’ll pass.”

“Miss’n-out,” Stiles whines as he snuggles closer. “Yur’ so-warm.”

“Go back to sleep, Stiles.”

“M’kay.”

\---

The alarm blaring through the loft wakes Stiles up with a jolt. Derek immediately jumps up out of bed to get ready for the day, but Stiles whines and forces himself into the mattress. “It’s Saturday, babe. Whyyyyyyyyyy?”

Derek walks back from the bathroom, toothbrush in mouth. “We get to go see the progress of the house today,” he speaks while brushing.

Stiles tries not to let on that he’s nervous. As they’re getting ready… As they drive out to the preserve… As they enter the house under construction…

“What do you think?” Derek asks.

“It’s beautiful,” Stiles honestly replies.

There was so much damage to the structure that Derek had to give in and have the old Hale house demolished. But, once he decided to rebuild, he worked with a designer to draft up new plans based on the original house. The rooms are all located in the same positions they once had been, but everything is new construction. As Derek thanks the designer for the tour, Stiles starts wandering off on his own. It’s not quite ready yet, but it’s finally looking like a home.

Stiles finds himself in a large room on the second floor. Derek comes up behind him and wraps his arms around his waist. “What do you think?”

“It’s all beautiful, Der.” Stiles smiles at him as he turns around. “I’m so happy for you.”

“Happy for us,” Derek corrects. He steps back and holds out his arms. “This is our room.”

“Our room?” Stiles drops his head. “You sure?”

Derek walks forward to hug his boyfriend again, used to his anxiety by now. “I love you, Stiles. I want you here. Forever.”

Stiles smiles softly as he looks up at Derek. “I love you, too.”

Derek grabs him and walks him to the window. He points out toward the open land. “All this behind us is Hale land. I want the pack to have homes out there. Anyone who wants to live here, that is. There’s room for at least four houses before we need to clear any more trees.”

“That’s awesome.” Stiles kisses Derek before walking out of the room and moving down the hallway. He stops at a room that is the most recently finished. The stickers still on the window cast strange shadows on the floor. On the carpet, Stiles notices.

He back tracks a little and looks around. “Der? Why’s this the only room with carpet up here?”

Derek blushes. “This is where my bedroom used to be. When I was little, the whole house had carpeting. Never a good idea with messy kids around. My parents decided to tear it all up and use the original hardwood instead. The day the workers came to tear it all out I barricaded myself into my room and refused to let them in. My mom finally relented and let me keep the carpet in my room. I was the only room left with carpet. So, when I decided to rebuild… I don’t know… I just…”

Stiles smiles and hugs him. “I love it.” Stiles enters the room and looks around.

Derek watches as the boy lingers at the windows, trails his fingers over the freshly painted walls. “What are you thinking?”

Stiles shakes his head. “I can’t explain it. I just… I really like this room.” Stiles bends down and spreads his arms out on the floor as if he were making a snow angel. “What are you doing with this room?”

Derek shrugs. “I don’t know yet. What do you think it should be?”

Stiles stills on the floor. “I’m not sure. I just… It feels important.”

“You can have it.” Derek explains when he sees the strange look on Stiles’ face. “You can choose what we do with it. It’s yours. You can choose. A library or a video game room… or…”

“A nursery,” Stiles whispers to himself.

“What?” Derek freezes.

Stiles looks up at him. “Hm? Oh… nothing.” Stiles stands and follows Derek out of the room. He pauses for a moment, leaning his head on the door frame and looking at the room. Looking at the possibilities.

“Stiles?”

He swallows, still looking into the room. “I don’t know why I said that. I… I know you heard me.” He looks up into Derek’s eyes. “That’s weird, right? You say I can turn the room into anything I want and the first thing I think of is that?”

“I think it’s nice. It’s a great idea.”

“Really?”

“Really.” Derek agrees. “Though, I don’t know if we’re ready for that yet.”

Stiles nods. “Agreed. Totally.” He blushes.

“It’s hard seeing someone else with what you want.”

Stiles looks up at him. “Huh?”

“Scott and Allison. You want kids someday, and it’s hard to see them already getting what you want.”

“Oh,” Stiles nods. “Yeah, I guess so.” He pulls absentmindedly at the hem of his shirt. “No need for us to rush like they did. We might not even…”

Derek waits for him to continue. “We might not even what?”

“Come on Der. We both know you’re going to get sick of me eventually.”

Derek growls. “Not true.” He gently lifts Stiles’ face. “What do I need to do to get you to understand that I’m not leaving? Never. I’m not stuck with you. You’re the one stuck with me.”

Stiles smiles, and it’s blinding. “I’m sorry.”

“Sorry for what,” he flips his finger gently down Stiles’ nose.

He giggles. “Sorry that I get so in my head sometimes. I know you love me. I know we’re… forever. I just…”

Derek hugs the boy, tugging him to his chest.

“I love you so much that it scares me, Der.”

Derek kisses the top of his head. “You’re not going to lose me. Never.”

“Never ever?”

“Never ever.”

\---

As Stiles starts cooking supper, Derek clears his throat. Stiles looks up at him. “What?”

He pointedly looks at the bag of potatoes on the countertop.

“What, Derek? Use your words.”

“Potatoes,” he huffs. “You went out and got more of those God-forsaken potatoes!”

Stiles dumps the remaining potatoes out of the bag and flutters the packaging in front of Derek’s eyes. “Five pounds. I promised I wouldn’t get TEN pounds again.”

“Stiles, I love you, but there are only so many times a month I can force myself to eat curly fries.”

“Oh-hoh! Well, then, you’re in luck. Tonight we are having potato wedges!”

Derek rolls his eyes. “Oh goodie.”

Stiles snorts a laugh. “They’re super easy too. I just never realized. Literally, all you do is cut the potatoes in fourths, season them, and bake them for a little while.”

“What are we having with these miracle potatoes?” Derek asks as he fills a glass with water.

Stiles shrugs. “I thought you could help me with the meat. We have hamburger, or we have steak tips.”

“I’ll grill whatever you want.”

“Okie doke. The steak tips have been in there longer. I guess fix those so they don’t go to waste.”

Derek nods, moves to the fridge, and grabs the package. He pecks a kiss on Stiles’ lips as he moves back to the other side of the kitchen and sets up the griddle they’re currently using as a grill.

\---

Stiles queues up the Netflix account after dinner, and they both settle into the couch to enjoy their evening. It’s a Saturday night, so neither has to get up for work the next day. Halfway through Anchorman, which neither was really watching anyway, they start making out. It’s good clean fun until it isn’t. As things get heated and the rocking and grinding gets underway, Stiles feels a sudden wave of nausea crashing into him.

“Woah, Der, wait.”

Derek whimpers a bit at having to stop, but he respects Stiles’ request. “What’s wrong?”

Stiles gulps, “Boat’s rocking a bit too much. Think I’m getting seasick.”

“You okay?” Derek looks at him with concern painting his features.

“What are those little patches people put behind their ears? Dromedaries? We got any of those? I’d really like to continue our voyage, but…”

“I’m not giving you a camel or dramamine either because we both know that’s what you’re talking about…”

“I’ve heard it both ways,” Stiles interrupts.

“No, you haven’t,” he continues without missing a beat. Completely used to Stiles’ antics even when he isn’t feeling well. “It’s probably due to the fact that you ate three whole potatoes at dinner.”

“If anything, it’s the steak tips. I told you those things smelled weird.”

“They smelled fine,” Derek assures him.

\---

“Oh my gosh, I’m dying.” Stiles arches his back as he heaves into the toilet. He’s been throwing up intermittently for over three hours now.

Derek rubs a soothing hand over his back. “You want the cold washcloth again?”

Stiles nods his head as he groans. “My guts are coming up next. There’s literally nothing else left.”

The wolf tosses the washcloth in the air a few times, effectively aerating it and making it super cold. Stiles sighs as he puts it on the back of his neck.

“You’re magic.”

Derek smiles as he helps Stiles stand.

“But I also hate you.”

“Sure,” he guides the weak man back into the bedroom.

“I do. You’re the one who fed me spoiled food.”

Derek rolls his eyes. “For the hundredth time, I did not feed you spoiled food. The steak was fine.”

Stiles melts into the covers and starfishes out on the bed. “It had been in the refrigerator for too long. It was no good. I told you it smelled weird.”

“It didn’t smell weird!” Derek winces as Stiles flinches at the volume of his voice. “It didn’t smell weird,” he tries for a calmer tone. “I, for one, would be able to smell if it was bad. Werewolf, remember? It was fine.”

“It smelled weird, Derek.” Stiles emphatically disagrees. “I can’t explain it, but it was… Oh no.” He stops. “Bucket… I need a bucket.”

Derek lunges toward the desk and grabs the trash can from beside it. He holds it out to Stiles just in time.

“I’ve never been this sick in my life!” Stiles graciously accepts the paper towels Derek offers him. “Not even after Scott’s bachelor weekend.”

“Oh no. Don’t even remind me.” Derek whines. “You were much worse than this then.”

“Well, I still don’t remember that time, so this seems worse.”

“Trust me, you’re lucky you don’t remember.”

Stiles settles back into his pillows. “It would be nice to remember me actually having the guts to ask you out, though. You should be happy I got blackout drunk. We might not be together now if I hadn’t.”

“I was the one that held you to it, though.” Derek smiles as he sits down on his side of the bed. “I’ll never forget the look of shock on your face when you realized everyone was telling the truth about you asking me out.”

“I thought you were going to kill me!” Stiles laughs. “There was no way I was expecting you to feel the same way.”

“After everything we’d already been through? You really had no idea?”

“NONE! I’m the last one to realize anything when it comes to the way people feel about me. Good or bad.”

“You done with the bucket?”

Stiles looks over at him with a loopy smile on his face. “What?”

“Bucket full of puke. You done with it?”

“Oh,” Stiles blushes. “Yeah. I think I’m finally done.”

“Okay,” Derek leans over and kisses his forehead. Then he gently takes the trash can and puts it outside the room. Close enough that he can get it if Stiles does need it again, but far enough away that he doesn’t have to smell it all night.

“You’re so good to me,” Stiles mumbles half asleep. “Good boyfriend.”

“Goodnight, Stiles.”


	3. Baked Potatoes

Stiles lounges around the house most of the day. Trying to catch up on sleep he missed throughout the night. He flips through random channels not really watching anything that comes on. By 3:00, he should be getting ready to head over to his dad’s for their weekly Sunday night dinner.

“You sure you want to go?”

Stiles looks up from the depths of the couch. “Yes. There’s no way I’m missing out on spending quality time with my daddio.” He reaches up a hand. “Help me up.”

Derek lifts him up from the couch and steadies him when he sways on his feet. “You need to drink some more fluids.”

“I will,” Stiles nods. He shuffles down the hall to the bathroom, so he can get ready.

\---

He may or may not sleep the whole drive to the Stilinski house. When they enter, he immediately cringes. His dad made steak.

“Stiles, you look horrible!” The Sheriff states in shock. “What’s wrong?”

Stiles hugs his dad. “Derek poisoned me last night.”

The Sheriff locks eyes with Derek and gives him a knowing look. “How dare he.”

“I’m going to pass on the steak tonight,” Stiles turns green as he sits down at the dining table. “Ooh, you made baked potatoes.”

“Ahhk,” Derek swats his hand away as he reaches for the aluminum foil wrapped spud. “If you should pass on anything, it should be that!”

“It’s a proven fact that baked potatoes soothe upset stomachs, Der-bear.” He looks at him pointedly while he grabs the potato he wanted.

“Not when the upset stomach was caused by potato-poisoning.”

Stiles scoffs.

“Anyone want to let the old man in on what’s happening here?”

“Stiles ate three potatoes last night and made himself sick but is blaming it on my steak tips.”

“They smelled weird!”

Derek holds back a growl. “No, they didn’t!” He points at the steaks that the Sheriff is currently dishing out. “They smelled exactly like these do.”

Stiles leans over and sniffs Derek’s plate. “Actually, you’re right. That’s gross. Dad, how old are these steaks?”

“Got them at the store this morning, kiddo,” he smiles as he takes his first bite.

“I think they’re spoiled,” Stiles insists. “You guys seriously don’t smell anything weird?”

“No, Stiles.”

“Fine,” he shrugs. “Fill your bodies with rotten meat. Leave me here with my potato.”

The Sheriff glances over at Derek. “Is he driving you crazy yet?”

“Hey!”

Derek just smiles.

\---

Stiles pulls himself out of bed Monday morning and gets ready for work. He’s bounced around from job to job a bit through his life. He has a nagging feeling in his gut that everyone is disappointed that he’s not living up to his potential. The FBI program was awesome, but it was so far from home. He couldn’t stand being away from everyone that was important in his life. He took a few more classes and was thinking of applying to be a deputy, but when Derek showed interest in joining the force Stiles supported him completely. Being stationed together would have been way too big of a distraction. That’s what he told himself at least.

Stiles pulls up to the drive thru window and pays for his hash browns. He eats some on his way to work and saves the rest for later.

He started out as a research analyst at a local Beacon Hills company because research, duh. But, they kept putting more and more work on his plate, and it was draining him. He needed to leave that world behind him. He wanted to do something creative, but so far nothing has come along.

He pulls in the parking lot and finishes eating his hash browns before psyching himself up to start his work day.

Linda at the front desk greets him as usual. He smiles and walks past her toward his office. Marketing Director at a pasta company. Some days he wishes he stayed as a research analyst. There’s only so much his soul can stand as he checks off boxes of noodles and makes sure the orders get sent to the right places.

He hates his job.

He laughs to himself as he thinks how much better it would be if it were a french fry company.

\---

For lunch, he grabs a container of potato salad at the company kitchen. Ironic that they’re a pasta company and the lunch room is completely devoid of any pasta dishes. Not that Stiles necessarily cares. The potato salad tastes pretty good to him.

The rest of the day is more and more of the same. It’s been this way for several months now, but for some reason Stiles feels like his soul is one more box of pasta away from being completely crushed.

\---

Derek gets off of his shift, comes home, and is surprised to see that Stiles is already home. He takes off his shoes at the door and moves into the living room.

“Stiles?” He leans down and kisses his head. “You’re home early.”

“Der?” Stiles questions. “Remember when you told the pack that you would pay them an allowance throughout college if they didn’t have a job?”

“Yes.” Derek takes off his outer shirt and sits down beside him.

“Does that, by chance, apply to after college, too?” He says the last words with tears in his eyes.

Derek pulls him into a hug. “What happened?”

“I quit,” Stiles admits. “I just couldn’t do it anymore. I want to do something special. Something exciting and creative. I couldn’t stand to count boxes of noodles anymore! I didn’t even realize I was sitting in my office crying until my boss walked in. He said that if it was that bad why didn’t I just quit. So, I did.”

Derek nods. “Good for you. You’ll find something great. I promise. I know you will.”

“Thanks, babe.”

They sit on the couch together for a little while. The emotional weight of the day taking its toll, Stiles begins to doze off. As the hours pass by, Derek finally decides he has to get up and start supper. He eases himself up from the couch, careful to lay Stiles down in a comfortable position. He moves into the bathroom to get cleaned up and change his clothes. He walks into the kitchen and is careful to work as quietly as he can.

He wonders how Stiles’ stomach is feeling- would just ask him if he was awake, but he doesn’t want to disturb him. It’s probably better to play it safe. He prepares some chicken and puts it in the oven to bake.

“Stiles?”

The boy mumbles something in his sleep.

“Babe, wake up.” Derek gently shakes his shoulder.

“Huh?” Stiles opens and blearily looks at him.

“It’s time to eat,” Derek pulls Stiles upright. “You’ve been asleep for a few hours.”

He tries to stifle a yawn, “Doesn’t seem like it.”

Derek puts his hand on his lower back and guides him to the kitchen table. He pulls out his chair for him and then moves around to bring the dishes to the table. Stiles rests his head on his left hand and looks dreamily at his boyfriend. Derek places the chicken on the table and notices the look on his face. “What?”

“I love you” is Stiles’ simple answer.

“I love you, too.” Derek finishes putting the salad and drinks on the table and turns back once more.

“Did you make dessert, too?”

Derek nods. “Yes, but this isn’t it.” He sets the covered dish down in front of his boyfriend. He flourishes the cloth away, revealing a baked potato.

Stiles snorts a laugh. “Thanks, babe.”

Derek smiles. “I know it’s not as spectacular as some of the things you could have created with your newfound skill set, but I thought it would do.”

Stiles reaches out and covers Derek’s hand where it rests on the table. “It’s perfect.”

Derek notices the crack in his voice. “Babe?” He kneels down beside Stiles’ chair.

Stiles turns to face him. “I mean it. It’s perfect. You’re perfect.”

The wolf reaches out to thumb the tears out of Stiles’ eyes. “What’s wrong, Stiles?”

“I don’t know what I’d do without you.” He leans forward and wraps his arms around Derek’s neck.

“Ditto.” Derek swipes his hand up and down Stiles’ back a few times. “Are you okay? Do you feel alright? You’re starting to worry me.”

Stiles sniffs his nose and pulls away with a smile. “I’m fine. Just… I didn’t feel well all weekend. I quit my job. And here you are being all Prince Charming. I dunno…”

Derek kisses him before standing. “Let’s take your mind off things. Dinner. Then, dessert. Then, whatever you want to do afterward.”

“Whatever I want?” A mischievous gleam is back in Stiles’ eye as he grabs the butter and gets to work on his potato.


	4. Au Gratin

The duo finishes dinner. Stiles puts his fork to the side knowing he’ll be using it again for dessert.

“How was it?”

Stiles smiles. “Delicious as always, Der-bear.” Stiles stands. “I’ll clear the dishes while you get dessert ready.” He picks up all the dirty plates and drops them in the sink.

Derek opens the freezer and pulls out the metallic cake ring from inside. He slides the ring up over the cake and peels the parchment paper from around the edge.

Stiles comes back from the bedroom and loops the strap of his camera around his neck. “That looks amazing!” He fiddles with the lens and makes sure it is ready. “What kind is it?”

Derek rolls his eyes. “If you couldn’t tell from the top, it’s lemon meringue.”

“Ooh, that’s Dad’s favorite. We’ll have to save him a slice.” Stiles messes around and makes sure his lighting is just right. He cradles the camera in one hand as he flurries around the kitchen and grabs items to use as props to stage his scene. “Tell me about the layers.”

“Well,” Derek leans his elbows on the edge of the countertop and watches Stiles work. “It’s a lemon chiffon cake with a hint of a honey milk soak. The bottom layer is filled with lemon pie filling. The next layer is filled with lemon curd. The top is a meringue icing I toasted with the torch you got me last Christmas.”

“Nice.” Stiles starts snapping pictures of the cake. Front, top, stylized shots, zoomed in views of the details. The twirl of lemon zest on top of the meringue peaks. The slight ooze of icing dripping down the side.

“I’ll be room temperature by the time you finally get your shot.”

“Shush,” Stiles reprimands. “I want to document each of your new recipes. You know that.”

“I know, Stiles.”

Stiles stands straight and starts scrolling through the images. Derek walks up behind him and wraps his hands around his slim waist. He looks at the small screen.

“Wow, Stiles. That one’s great.” He presses a kiss to Stiles’ cheek.

“Yeah, I like that one, too. The composition really stands out.” He turns off his camera.

Derek suddenly spins him around. “You should do this!”

“Do what?” he huffs.

“This!” Derek takes the camera from his hands. “You should be a photographer!”

“Yeah, right.”

“I’m serious. Your pictures are amazing. You could totally do it!” Derek is beaming, but Stiles looks hesitant.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” Stiles shrugs. “Who would want me to take pictures? Who would pay me for them?”

“Lots of people! You could do events and things, but you could do studio shots, too. Like for cookbooks or something.”

Stiles perks up. He looks directly into Derek’s eyes. “Your cookbook? Derek, does this mean you’ll finally do it?”

“Only if you’re my photographer.”

Stiles squeals and leaps into Derek’s arms. “Yes! This is amazing. I’ve been telling you to write a cookbook since the first day I discovered your secret love of baking! Derek, it’s going to be great!”

“Shall we celebrate?”

“Oh yes. Yes, we shall!”

The cake is completely thawed by the time the boys return to the kitchen.

  
  


\---

With Stiles being completely jobless for the last three weeks and no actual job in the foreseeable future, he’s able to go to the store with Derek the next time they need groceries. He insists on bringing his camera and getting “behind the scenes” shots of Derek choosing his ingredients. The wolf gets all growly and embarrassed each time Stiles insists he “hold that reach, sexy,” and it’s completely adorable. The boy finally puts his camera away when they move out of the baking aisles.

Derek pushes the cart over to the produce and bags up some tomatoes. He asks Stiles to grab two bags of onions. The pack is planning on making some salsa this weekend in preparation for Scott and Allison’s Mexican themed gender reveal party. Senor or Senorita? What will it be?

Stiles grabs up the bags, but his eyes linger on the display that sits next to the onions.

“Der?”

“Yes, Stiles,” Derek absentmindedly replies as he counts out the deepest, reddest tomatoes.

“Can I add something to the cart?”

“Sure,” Derek replies mentally making sure he has enough.

“Anything?”

“Of course,” Derek says as he turns. “We forgot the peppers. I’ll be right back.”

“Okay, babe.”

Derek comes back and drops a bag of peppers in the cart. He moves his eyes over the shopping list. When he’s satisfied he has everything they need, he folds the paper and slides it into his pocket. He looks up. “No.”

“What?” Stiles feigns innocence.

“Stiles, no.”

“But, Der, you said anything.”

Derek points to the ten pound bag of potatoes that are now sitting in the cart. “We don’t need ten pounds of potatoes!”

“But, the five pound bags don’t last more than a day or two!”

“That means you need to slow down on eating them, not that you need to buy more.”

“Derek, please.” Stiles moves in front of him and clasps his hands together. “Please, Derek.”

\---

Derek drops the gigantic bag of potatoes in the corner of the kitchen. Stiles wraps his arms around him and smacks a kiss to his cheek. “Thanks, babe.”

\---

Wednesday- Potatoes O’Brien

Thursday- Potato wedges

Friday- Mashed potatoes

Saturday- Spicy french fries

Around 2:00, the last of the pack pulls up at the Hale house. It’s still not completely finished, but the kitchen is operational and clearly the largest out of any of their homes. Scott parks his car, leaps from it, and rushes around to open the door for Allison. She eases herself up from the car and smacks away Scott’s cautious hands.

“Stiles!” She beams. They rush to each other and squeal as they hug. “I haven’t seen you in forever!”

“I know!” Stiles stands back and looks at her. “Ally, you look great!”

She turns to the side and smooths out her shirt over her belly. “Thanks.”

“Come on in. I’ll show you where we’re working today. The kitchen looks amazing. I can’t believe it’s almost finished.”

They continue to talk as they move into the house.

The pack has a great time. When everyone has a job, the work goes fast. After all the salsa is made, they move outside and relax around the property. Erica brought a few blankets, so they spread them out and enjoy the nice weather.

At one point Derek gestures with his head for Scott to follow him. The boy obeys, and they move out of earshot.

“What’s up?” Scott asks.

“Look at Stiles.”

Scott glances over at his best friend. He watches how he and Allison laugh as they talk to each other. “What about him?”

“Do you notice anything different?”

“I don’t think so,” Scott shrugs.

“You don’t think he’s put on some weight?”

“Oh no, you don’t. One thing I’ve learned since Allison got pregnant is never to discuss weight!” Scott holds out his hands, absolutely adamant that the conversation goes no further.

“Scott. I’m worried about him.” Derek looks at Scott seriously. “Something weird’s going on.”

“What do you mean? Like the reemergence of a supernatural threat weird or…”

“No,” Derek shakes his head, thankful that the supernatural fiascos stopped as soon as they were smart enough to just dig up the stupid tree stump. “I mean… He’s gaining weight, I can see it.”

“Nobody’s metabolism is what it used to be,” Scott offers. “Plus, he’s been so excited about you finally giving in and writing that book. Maybe you should lay off the sweets for a while.”

“I’ve only made one dessert this whole week. And, he only eats a serving anyway.” Derek takes a deep breath. “Scott, Stiles has been pilfering potatoes.”

Scott stares blankly before clearing his throat and scrunching his brows. “Run that by me again?”

“I’m serious. He’s been sneaking potatoes.” Derek throws his hands up in the air in frustration. “It was bad enough when EVERY. SINGLE. meal had to have some form of potato to go with it, but I’ve caught him sneaking them between meals now.

“A potato or two isn’t going to make him put on that much weight. I wouldn’t worry about it…”

“We bought a ten pound bag of potatoes on Wednesday. This is Saturday, and they’re gone. He forced me to go through a fast food drive thru on our way here to get some spicy fries because he couldn’t have any hash browns for breakfast this morning.”

“So?” Scott unhelpfully supplies.

“He snuck out of bed at 1 am to go make some au gratin potatoes. 1 am, Scott. Au gratin potatoes! I went in to check to see what he was doing, and he was standing there eating raw slices of potato because he said he couldn’t wait until they were finished.”

“Raw?” The look of disgust is apparent on Scott’s face.

“I tried to take them away from him, and he almost cried.”

“Okay,” Scott admits something strange is happening. “What could possibly be making him act like that?”

“He quit his job, but things were weird before that. And, he’s been happier thinking about the whole photography thing since he did quit.”

“We’ll figure it out,” Scott slugs Derek in the shoulder.

Derek just glares at him. Why he thought confiding in Scott was a good idea, he’ll never know.


	5. Mashed Potatoes

Normally, Stiles would be thrilled to have Derek off of work for a whole week, but now it just makes him nervous. If Derek is home, there will be no way he will be able to hide what has been going on. He feels sick just thinking about it. You see, Stiles has secretly come to realize it wasn’t the steak tips that plagued his digestive system. Not that he’d ever admit it to Derek. A whole month has passed since the first upheaval, and he’s suffered several bouts of it since then. It’s weird. Sometimes the queasiness hits in the morning. Sometimes it hits him at night. Either way, it’s easier to hide when Derek’s at work.

Not that he HAS to hide it. Derek’s great. He’s kind and caring, but that’s exactly the point. It’s been happening enough that Stiles is starting to worry that something is wrong. He knows what burden sickness is to loved ones, and he’d rather just avoid it. What Derek doesn’t know won’t hurt him.

Whatever’s wrong, it’s not affecting his overall health, yet. If anything, he admits it looks like he’s gaining weight. Stiles shrugs off the thought that weight gain could be a sign of something wrong, too.

Stiles checks the time. Nearly 5:00. Derek will be home by 6:00 and will then be off all weekend and until the following Sunday. Stiles makes sure the oven is set at the correct temperature and then walks into the living room.

He sits down on the couch and immediately yawns. He sets a timer on his phone and flips it down onto the coffee table. Flinging his legs up onto the couch, Stiles stretches out and rests his head against a pillow he brought in from the bedroom. He’s completely out in a matter of minutes.

\---

Derek walks into the loft and takes off his shoes as always. He can already hear the gentle snoring coming from the couch, so he quietly makes his way to the restroom. The first few times he found Stiles curled up and asleep when he got home, it was almost cute. Something totally Stiles- like a kid sleeping all day on a day off from school. But, now it’s just something else for him to worry about.

He’s beginning to wonder if it’s depression. Maybe the fact that Derek still hasn’t proposed is adding to Stiles’ ever-present anxiety about their future. Maybe he’s depressed that he doesn’t have a job. He always gets excited when they have a conversation about his photography, but that’s not anything set in stone yet. Still more like a dream.

Then, there’s the fact that he’s been throwing up a lot. Derek is sure that Stiles doesn’t realize he knows, but it’s hard not to notice. Any normal, observant human being would be able to see that something’s going on. Add to the fact that Derek’s a werewolf… No matter how much water Stiles runs or how loud he turns up the music on his phone, Derek can always tell when it’s happening.

It hurt at first- to think that Stiles didn’t want Derek to comfort him when he was sick. Then, Derek realized that it doesn’t make sense. Stiles is hiding it. He wouldn’t be trying to hide the fact that he’s sick. So that must mean that he’s doing it on purpose. He’s making himself throw up on purpose and trying to hide it. That’s the only thing that makes any sense at all.

Derek feels overwhelmed. If Stiles is depressed and has developed some strange potato obsessive bulimic disorder, what can Derek do? How can he make the boy see that everything is going to be okay?

\---

When Derek finally comes out of the bathroom, changed into his regular clothes, Stiles is working in the kitchen. Stiles looks up at him and blushes. “Hey, babe.” Stiles walks over to Derek and pulls him in for a kiss.

Derek’s nose wrinkles at the smell of peppermint. Another way Stiles tries to hide what he’s doing in the bathroom. Gum and mints are almost as likely to be found in his mouth as some form of potato.

Stiles pulls away with a smile on his face. “You got home early.”

Derek nods. “Yeah, a bit. I didn’t take lunch today, so I got to leave at 5:00 instead of 5:30.”

Stiles turns and checks inside the oven. “You’ll have to wait a bit for supper. I was planning on 6:00.”

“That’s okay,” Derek steps up behind him and wraps his arms around his waist. His hands brush against the soft rounding of Stiles’ stomach, and he whines as worry washes over him again.

Stiles turns around and snuggles into his arms. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Derek lies. “I’m just glad I’m going to be home with you all week.” Derek can feel Stiles tense in his arms.

Stiles swallows. He breathes through his nose and tries to steady his heart. “Yeah, that’s great.” He feels panic rising in his throat. A week. A full week of Derek home and able to realize there’s something wrong. He pulls away from their embrace. “I’m going to go take a shower before dinner. Mind keeping an eye on the oven?”

“Sure.”

‘Is that it?’ Derek thinks. Stiles doesn’t want to be around him. Maybe Stiles doesn’t want to be with him anymore. Derek assured him that he was never leaving. Maybe Stiles wants to.

  
  


\---

It’s Saturday morning way too soon, and Stiles smacks at his alarm. Then, he just lays there.

Derek rolls over and gently scratches his blunt nails across Stiles’ pajama clad back. “We gotta get up.”

Stiles just groans.

“Stiles,” he tries again. “We’re the ones hosting the party. We have to be there and set things up.”

“Fine.” Stiles sits up. “This better be worth it.”

“It’s a gender reveal party for one of your best friends. I’m sure it will be worth it.”

Stiles slunks to the bathroom. “But, Lydia planned it all. She should have to be the one to set it all up.”

Derek follows him to the bathroom, slides behind him at the sink, and grabs his toothbrush. “Too bad she couldn’t get off of work to fly in from London.”

“London…” Stiles huffs as he flosses. “Stupid Jackson and London.”

“Wonderful attitude you have this morning.”

Stiles glares at him through the mirror. “It’s barely eight am. I can have whatever attitude I want.”

“Get some coffee and cheer up.”

“Eugh, nah. Last time I drank that I…” Stiles catches himself and changes direction. “... finished the bag and never bought more.”

Derek wants to call him out on the lie, but he doesn’t want to start a fight when they’re supposed to be having a good day. “I’ll go start some breakfast while you get dressed.”

Stiles nods.

“I love you.”

“Love you, too.”

  
  


\---

Derek cracks some eggs into a bowl and begins to whisk them.

“Stupid pants!” Stiles growls from the bedroom.

Derek looks around the pillar that blocks the view from the kitchen to the bedroom. He can see Stiles bouncing around trying to pull his pants up past his hips. There’s a sigh of relief when the jeans slide into place, only to be followed by a howl of frustration.

The wolf finally forgoes giving him his space and walks toward the bedroom. “Stiles?”

“It’s nothing! It’s fine. My zipper broke. No big deal. I’ll just…” Stiles starts mumbling so soft Derek can’t even hear.

Derek goes back and finishes making the omelette.

\---

Stiles’ attitude has completely turned around by the time the pack arrives at the Hale house for the party. It’s not quite finished, but the kitchen, dining room, and now living room are completely finished and furnished. The pack has spread out and is lounging around the main floor. Stiles is bouncing around the house, sombrero atop his head and a plate of mini tacos in his hand.

“Tacos, anyone?” he gestures the plate around. Isaac takes another one and munches on it.

“Shhhh!!!!!” Erica shouts as the ringtone is heard. The phone beeps a few times, and finally the FaceTime connects.

Stiles races to her and presses his face into view. “Lydia!!!!! Hey!!!”

“Hi, Stiles!” Lydia smiles. The call is extremely clear for being literally across continents.

Scott and Allison step behind the table that holds a small cake. One that Derek made, of course.

“Okay,” Stiles shouts over the crowd. “Make sure everyone can see. Lydia, can you see?” He grabs his camera and holds it ready. Scott and Allison share the knife as they cut into the cake and remove a slice.

There’s a lot of squealing and screaming.

“It’s a girl!”

  
  
  


\---

The pack decides to go out to eat while everyone is in town together. It won’t be long until a few of the members go back to neighboring towns for their jobs or schools. It’s bright and sunny on Sunday afternoon as everyone piles into their cars and heads to the best buffet in town. As they pay for their meals, they order their entree. Most of the pack chooses steaks or pork chops, but Stiles opts for the grilled chicken and a baked potato.

They find their seats at a long table in the back of the dining room. Once the waitress brings their drinks, they get up a few at a time and head to the soup and salad bar. Lively conversation continues as everyone begins to eat. Stiles elbows Derek and tells him the potato soup is to die for.

“Why are there french fries on top of your salad?” Scott asks from across the table.

Stiles shrugs. “They add a bit of flavor to an otherwise bland dish?”

As the waitress begins to serve the main meals, the pack heads up to the hot food bar. Isaac snorts a laugh as he relates a buffet scene he saw on Impractical Jokers once. Boyd nods but otherwise doesn’t admit it was funny.

As most of the pack returns to their seats, Scott yelps and glares across the table at Derek. He reaches down and rubs at his shin where the Alpha’s foot connected. “Why’d you ki…” he quiets as Derek jerks his eyes toward Stiles who is just coming back to the table with his plate. Scott continues to wince, but looks at his friend.

Mashed potatoes, buttered red skin potatoes, and green beans with bacon and diced potatoes cover his plate. Scott just looks at Derek and shrugs.

\---

Everyone has their bellies full, but conversation keeps them all at the table. A few people are lazily eating dessert, but for the most part everyone is finished.

“I’ll be right back,” Stiles kisses Derek on the cheek as he stands and heads from the table back toward the buffet.

“Your cake is definitely better,” Allison smiles at Derek.

“Thanks.” Derek points at his slice with his fork. “It isn’t bad, though.”

Stiles comes back a few moments later with a bowl from the ice cream bar. He begins eating it happily. He looks around when he notices the room has gone quiet. “What?”

Scott speaks the thoughts of everyone when he says, “What the holy heck is that?”

Stiles looks at him and then back down to his bowl. He swirls his spoon across the mixture- displacing some of the cheese, bacon, and chives. “It’s mashed potatoes.”

“I thought you were getting dessert,” Derek says.

“I did,” Stiles turns his bowl to the side to show him. “The ice cream’s at the bottom.”

The entire pack gags.


	6. Blue Potatoes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warning?- Mentions of depression and eating disorders. Some angst but all's well that ends well.

The entire pack is now worried about Stiles after the GMPSD, aka the Great Mashed Potato Sundae Debacle. They create a group message so they’re always in contact with Derek. It feels weird talking behind Stiles’ back. He never supplies much information on his own, but he keeps everyone updated when they ask worried questions.

Stiles can’t hide the fact that he is sick all Monday morning. It’s so bad that he even lets Derek take care of him. He stays in bed most of the day.

Actually, he stays in bed most of the week. Up until Wednesday that is. He offers to go to the store and pick up the things Derek needs for his next project. Derek knows he’s only volunteering to go so he can stop and get some french fries at a drive thru on his way.

  
  


Stiles is gone for maybe an hour and a half at most, but when he pulls back into the loft parking lot, he notices tons of cars are there. He grabs the bags out of the back of his jeep and makes his way into the building. He takes the elevator because there’s no way he’s huffing it up all those flights of stairs.

“Uh, Derek? Why’s there all those…” his voice cuts off as he walks through the door and is greeted by a sea of faces. It looks as though the whole pack is there.

“Lyds?” He drops the bags by the door and welcomes the hug that Lydia gives him. “How are you?! How…” She didn’t even come back for the gender reveal. Why is she here now? “Why are you here?” he asks. Confusion gives way to sheer panic. He can feel his heart slamming into his chest and is sure the werewolves can hear it loud and clear. “Did something happen? Did someone die?”

“Sit down, Stiles,” she calmly leads him to a chair.

“What’s going on?” The entire pack is staring at him. They look so sad. This can’t be good.

“Buddy,” Scott begins. “We’re here because we’re all worried about you.”

Stiles freezes. They know. They must know. They know he’s sick. Have they smelled it on him? Whatever’s wrong with him. Does it have a scent to it? He had asked if someone died. Now he knows it’s him; he’s dying. That has to be it. They’re trying to let him know that this is it. End of the road. Stiles turns pale.

“I don’t want to call this an intervention, but…” Scott doesn’t know how to continue.

Lydia speaks up. “Your eating habits seem off.”

Stiles just sits there not knowing how to comprehend what’s going on. “What?” he asked, confused.

Scott tries again. “Derek has told us about you sleeping all the time and making yourself throw up. We want you to know that we’re here for you. If… If you’re battling an eating disorder or...”

Stiles is dumbfounded. “Eating disorder? You… you think I’m making myself throw up. That’s insane.” What are they saying? So they know he’s been throwing up, but they think he’s doing it on purpose? “Are you nuts?”

“We care about you,” Lydia adds. “If you’re depressed, we want you to get the help you need.”

“Maybe a therapist could help you. You can talk to them about how you’re feeling,” Allison supplies with pity in her eyes.

“I’m not depressed,” Stiles humorlessly laughs. “That’s not even…”

“Buddy,” Scott continues. “It’s clear to us that something’s changed. We all saw what you ate on Sunday. Eating potatoes like that isn’t normal. And, you have to admit you’ve put on some weight.”

Stiles’ red blush covers his cheeks and creeps down his neck. He wraps his arms around himself self consciously. “What does that have to do with…”

“We think maybe you need to cut back on what you’re eating,” Scott mutters.

Stiles can’t believe what he’s hearing. He watches as Derek leans forward where he has been sitting on the coffee table. He reaches out to Stiles.

“Stiles,” he clears his throat. “We need to talk. If our relationship…”

Stiles stands up suddenly. “I need to go.” He quickly wipes at his eyes as he turns and rushes to the door. It all comes back to their relationship. Derek’s finally going to dump him, he just knows it.

“Stiles, wait!” Derek calls.

“I need to go.” Stiles runs out the door and doesn’t look back.

Derek rushes after him.

\---

Stiles reaches the jeep and drives off in it. He’s completely humiliated. He drives for a while until he can see that no one is behind him. He finally pulls over and lets himself break down.

When he saw them all there, he had been so scared that they knew the truth. That something is really wrong with him. But, they didn’t notice that he was sick… that something was wrong… They just saw that he was fat.

Out of everything about this situation, that’s what bothered them. That’s what they noticed. He rests his head on the steering wheel and cries.

\---

Derek wasn’t able to catch up with Stiles in time. He jumped in his Camaro to follow him, but Stiles must have changed directions at least a dozen times and lost him. When he realized he couldn’t find him, he called Scott and asked for reinforcements.

He hated the idea of an intervention from the start. But, he was so desperate to help Stiles, and the others said that it would work. Again, why does he listen to a word Scott says? He’s usually a calm person, but he feels close to panicking. Stiles is missing. The love of his life is missing.

The pack checks around the whole town and can’t find a sign of him. They even called the Sheriff and asked him to send out the rest of the deputies.

There isn’t a single clue to where he went. Derek gives up all hope while searching and circles back to the Preserve. The pack had already checked the house… twice actually… but it’s his last option.

His heart speeds up as he sees the jeep parked around the side of the house. He leaps out of his Camaro and bolts inside.

“Stiles!!!” Derek rushes through the first floor before running up the stairs. “Stiles?!!!” He checks all the rooms.

Coming to his childhood room, he slows. He can hear a heartbeat inside. Of course the door is locked. Derek doesn’t care. He just pushes it off the hinges.

It’s completely dark inside the room, but Derek sees a huddled mass covered with a blanket lying in the middle of the floor. He kneels beside the crying form and reaches out an uncertain hand.

Stiles jumps at the contact. The sobbing turns into whimpers before he says, “I’m sorry. I’m sure you don’t want me here. I’ll leave.”

Derek lies down on the floor beside Stiles and pulls the blanket back from what he’s assuming is his head. Brown hair puffs out from beneath the fabric and suddenly a pair of eyes are looking out at him. “Babe, what are you talking about? Of course I want you here.”

“Don’t feel bad about it now. What’s done is done. I knew you would want me to leave someday. Well, you finally have an excuse to get rid of me. Why would you want to be with someone who puts on weight. Who’s… who’s fat apparently.”

“Stiles… That’s not…”

“But, you could have just told me. You didn’t need to completely humiliate me in front of everyone first.”

“Stiles, what are you talking about? That’s not what we were trying to do at all.” Derek scoots closer to him. “I only mentioned our relationship because I was worried something I was doing was what was causing you to be depressed.”

The boy looks at him in confusion. “You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me! And I’m not depressed! Why would everyone think that I was depressed?”

Derek reaches out and rubs his hand over Stiles’ face, smoothing back his hair. “Because you quit your job, and you sleep all the time, and you’re making yourself throw up.”

A mix of emotions pours out of Stiles. “You know why I quit my job. And, I sleep a lot because I’m tired. And… and… Why would I be making myself throw up?! You think I like it?”

“If there was something wrong, you’d let me know. You’d let me take care of you. So…” Derek stops when he sees tears forming in Stiles’ eyes. “Stiles,” he breathes.

Stiles can’t speak through his tears for a moment. “Der… I didn’t want you to know anything was wrong. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, but I just thought… I know how hard someone being sick is for everyone else, and I… I thought if I didn’t tell you. Then… Then…”

Derek holds him close as he sobs. They lie there on the floor holding each other as the sun sets further in the sky. When Stiles finally calms down, Derek fights past the panic to ask. “What’s wrong with you?”

“I’m not sure,” Stiles whispers. “I just don’t feel good. I’m tired all the time, and I’m nauseous. You all think I’m crazy, but the potatoes really do help. They’re something that still tastes good. They taste really good actually. And, if I’m dying why deny myself the one thing that’s good?”

“Stiles, you’re not dying.”

“How do you know?”

“I’d know.” Derek presses his lips to Stiles’ forehead. “So, you’re not making yourself sick, and you’re not depressed.”

“I’d say I’m a little depressed after this afternoon, but no.” Stiles smacks Derek in the chest as he says, “And, I’m not that fat! I finally weighed myself when my pants’ zipper broke. I’m not stupid, I know I’ve gained SOME weight. But seriously, I’m only up thirteen pounds from what I weighed in high school. That doesn’t exactly push me into hippo status.”

Derek smiles. “Let’s go home.”

Stiles shakes his head. “No. I don’t… I don’t want to go back to the loft.”

“No one else is there. You don’t have to see anyone.”

“Can’t we just stay here?”

“You need to sleep. All we have here is the couch. None of the bedrooms are ready yet.”

“Please, Derek,” Stiles insists. “I don’t want to go back there. It makes me anxious just thinking about that chair and the way I wanted to sink through it.”

“Okay, babe.” Derek nods. “Okay.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The moment you've all been waiting for is coming!!!! I might have gone a little overboard with the next chapter, but I just couldn't help myself.


	7. Aisles of Potatoes

As the sun rises on Thursday morning, Derek messages with the pack while Stiles sleeps on the couch. He explains a bit about what is going on; how they’re going to make an appointment with a doctor soon to see what’s going on, how Stiles adamantly refuses to ever set foot in the loft again but knows the pack just wanted to help him and doesn’t hold anything against them.

Since everyone is still in town from the fiasco last night, they offer to help move everything over to the Hale house. Derek says that they don’t have to do it, but they take it upon themselves as a peace offering. He finally agrees once he has had a chance to talk it over with Stiles.

Before the first load of belongings arrives, Stiles scrubs his face with water. Nothing in the world will make the tearful puffiness go completely away, though. When Derek hears the cars and trucks pull up, Stiles and Derek step out on the porch. Stiles stamps down the anxiety and smiles as he greets each of the pack.

Apologies are passed around, but Stiles shrugs them off saying he knows they care. Stiles looks out at all the vehicles packed with belongings and claps his hands together. “Let’s get started!”

\---

“Hey, hey, hey!” Stiles shouts as he runs up to Allison. “Give me that!” He yanks a box of books out of her arms.

“Stiles, it’s not that heavy,” she assures him.

“I don’t care. You’re pregnant. You don’t need to be lifting stuff. Especially not my stuff. If something would happen to you, I’d never forgive myself.”

“You’re the one that hasn’t been feeling well. Why are you out here hauling stuff around?” Allison suggests.

“If you have somehow forgotten, I’m fat. A little exercise will do me good.”

\---

A little exercise does not do him good. He sets down a box in what will soon be the library and suddenly feels light headed. He steadies himself on a stack of boxes. Once his eyes stop swimming he takes himself downstairs. Most of the work is being done upstairs, so the kitchen is blissfully empty. He fills a glass with water and sits down at the kitchen island.

That’s where Allison finds him ten minutes later. “Hey,” she asks, “are you okay?”

Stiles looks at her and nods.

“We were worried when we noticed you had disappeared,” Lydia adds as she follows Allison into the room.

“I felt a little weird,” Stiles admits; honest for the first time in a long while. “Thought I’d take a break.”

“How about we steal you away from all this, and you can go help us get some decorations to finish up the house. It is going to be yours after all. No need in us choosing everything.”

Stiles smiles; happy to be able to spend some time with two of his best friends. When they arrive at the huge housewares store, Stiles doesn’t even know where to look first. But, apparently the girls have a list. A long list. They each take responsibility for a few items, travel off on their own to get them, and then meet back up. After a couple hours, they’re finally at the end of their list. Stiles runs through the items he needs to get repeatedly in his mind so he doesn’t forget them. Lydia had insisted that they get some new towels- the big, fluffy kind, so Stiles pushes his cart off to pick some out. He’s thinking of some in orange and some in blue. He’s almost to the towel display when something catches his eye.

There’s a cute little bunny sitting on the endcap of a display. Stiles looks both ways to make sure Allison can’t see him. He grabs the bunny and hides with his cart in the aisle. It’s so cute, perfect as a surprise for his new god-daughter. He puts it in his cart, intending to hide it under the towels he gets. Then, he raises his eyes and sees everything else in the aisle he’s hiding in. Baby toys and blankets come in every size and color. He meanders the aisle; picking up anything that’s interesting or cute. He pushes his cart to the side of the aisle so two women can walk by. One woman is clearly pregnant. Not nearly as large as Allison, but still noticeably showing. They stop just behind him and gush over a blanket with a lamb on it.

“I can’t believe you’re pregnant,” the blonde says to her friend.

“I know! Isn’t it exciting?”

“I don’t know how you kept it a secret for so long. Andrew didn’t even let on to any of us!”

“That’s because he didn’t know!” the mother-to-be laughs. “He was completely oblivious.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me!” The blonde moves over and reaches for something beside Stiles. “Oh, uh, excuse me.”

“Sure,” Stiles says and pushes his cart a bit further down the aisle.

She continues talking to her friend. “Your symptoms were so obvious, too! How could he not know?”

“Because he’s a man,” she laughs. “I was overly emotional and cried at everything. I was so tired that I slept all the time…”

Stiles doesn’t realize that he’s listening in until he finds himself nodding his head at the list the woman rattles off.

“Andrew didn’t even notice that I was gaining weight. Oh, and the morning sickness!”

“Why do they call it morning sickness? You were sick all day every day for the first three months.”

“I know. It was awful.”

Stiles snorts. “Tell me about it.”

The women look at Stiles oddly and pass by him on their way out of the aisle. “I’m just glad the cravings have subsided. Everybody says it’s pickles and ice cream, but I have to be the weird one! I must have gone through twenty pounds of potatoes!”

A loud crash silences the women, and they look back at Stiles. The rainbow blocks set he was holding is broken and scattered across the floor. A look of pure panic is on his face and for some reason he has spread his arms out and pressed himself against the shelving.

The women slowly back away unsure of who let the crazy out.

“Potatoes!” Stiles screeches. He flings his cart to the side and dashes out of the aisle.

“Should we call for security?”

  
  


\---

Lydia and Allison are together in their agreed upon meeting spot. Where Stiles should have been ten minutes ago.

“Where could he be?” Allison asks as she presses a hand to her stomach, fatigued and tired of standing.

“Knowing Stiles?” Lydia starts.

A flash of plaid catches their attention. Well, not only the plaid but the man flailing his arms in the air and screaming as he runs toward them.

“Stiles?!” Allison asks.

“LYDIA! ALLISON!”

Lydia hurries toward him. “Stiles, what’s wrong?!”

“Andrew. Potatoes.”

“What?” the girls ask in unison.

“Come on!!!!!” Stiles screams.

“We have to pay,” Lydia motions to the cart as Allison tries to calm him down.

“Leave it! We gotta go!” He pulls away from her and bounces where he stands. “Potatoes!!!!”

“Stiles, calm down,” Allison tries.

“No, we gotta go. Deaton needs to… Deaton needs to. Potatoes, Lydia. Ally, look at you.” He motions his hands toward her as if what he is saying is obvious.

“Stiles, you’re scaring us.”

“It’s all okay. Andrew was stupid, too.” Stiles smiles. “Hurry!” He finally takes off running toward the exit without them.

They hurry to catch up just as the announcement system notifies “Security to aisle 19. Security to aisle 19.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you like it! Tell me your thoughts. Super excited for everyone to read the next chapter!


	8. The Truth

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you thought the last chapter was crazy, just wait...

Stiles throws the doors to Deaton’s clinic open and barges in. “Deaton!!!!”

A little old lady holding a Persian cat startles and looks up at him.

“Sorry, ma’am. This is an animal emergency! We’ve got a whale coming in. I need you to leave.” Stiles looks at her expectantly. When she doesn’t move, he decides to move her. “Okay.” He grabs at the chair she’s sitting in and starts tugging it toward the doors.

“I beg your pardon!” She grabs her purse and starts smacking him with it.

“Mr. Stilinksi, what are we…”

“Deaton!” Stiles turns toward the man. “Hurry.” He dashes past the man and into the back room.

Lydia runs through the doors and about topples over the poor, old woman. She catches herself just in time and uprights herself. She and Allison help the woman stand and try to calmly explain that she will need to reschedule.

“Ladies,” Deaton says. “What on earth is going on?”

“We don’t know. I think he’s had a psychotic break,” Allison says.

Stiles rushes back out of the room shirtless and swings the shirt around in the air. “Hurry up, Deaton! I need you!”

The three of them follow Stiles to the back.

“We tried to get him to talk to us but he just kept screaming about potatoes and getting to you,” Lydia explains as they rush down the hallway.

Stiles has found the animal ultrasound machine and has pulled it up to the exam table. “Where’s the gel?”

Deaton calmly walks to him and reaches out to steady him. “Stiles…”

“Got it,” Stiles says as he grabs the small bottle. He aims it at his stomach and squeezes it with all his might. The force pops the nozzle off and the entire bottle of bluish colored goo splatters all over his stomach and begins to drip to the floor.

Deaton grabs Stiles’ shoulders. “Stiles. Look at me. Stiles!”

Stiles takes a deep breath and looks him in the eyes. He drops the broken plastic bottle and smiles. “Deaton, I need you to check me. I know it’s crazy. It’s impossible. But somehow…”

“Yes, Stiles?” he waits for him to continue.

“I’m pregnant.”

\---

Deaton stares at him blankly. He turns and looks at the shocked women in the room. “Is he on drugs?”

“Not that we know of,” Lydia states.

Stiles rolls his eyes at her. “Okay. I know I’m probably coming off as a lunatic, but,” he takes another deep breath finally calming a tiny bit, “I swear I’m not. Deaton. Please just check me.”

It takes Stiles a few minutes of begging to convince Deaton to turn on the ultrasound machine. “Stiles, you know that what you’re saying is impossible, right?”

“Nothing’s impossible. We’re in a pack of werewolves. Anything can happen,” Stiles says semi-calmly.

“Werewolves are well documented. I’ve been in my line of business for the majority of my life. Not once have I ever come across even a MENTION of male pregnancy.”

“Deaton, please. Just check.” Stiles holds his arms out with hands clasped pleading before he lies down on the table. “If I’m wrong, you can commit me to the finest institution my money can buy.”

Deaton looks at him and looks at Lydia and Allison. He sighs. He picks up the wand and moves it around Stiles’ stomach. “I don’t even know where I’d look…” Deaton mumbles. He moves the tool around a bit more and is about to give up when he stops. He moves the wand back. Moves it around. Pushes a little harder.

Deaton stands up from his stool and steps back.

“Deaton?” Allison asks.

“Deat?” Stiles looks at him.

“You’re pregnant. You’re actually pregnant.” Deaton’s eyes grow wide.

“Alan?” Lydia is in shock.

Deaton takes another step back and then proceeds to faint.

\---

“Deaton!” Stiles hovers over the man’s body. “Hey, Deat! Come on, buddy.”

Lydia hands Stiles his jacket so he won’t be completely exposed. Stiles stands, puts the plaid jacket on, and moves off to find something to help Deaton come to.

Allison redials the phone, and Derek actually answers this time.

“Sorry, Allison, we were upstairs, and I had left my phone in the living room.”

“It doesn’t matter. Derek, we need you to come to Deaton’s clinic,” Allison states as she watches Stiles rushing around the room.

“Dr. Deaton,” Lydia says as she rubs his arm. She puts her purse under his head so it’s not on the hard flooring.

Derek answers Allison. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing I can say over the phone. You need to get here, now. As soon as possible. Like, get in your car and come now.”

“Okay,” Derek says. “I’m coming.”

“It’s important,” Allison replies.

“How important?”

“When Deaton- Mr. Calm and Collected- faints, you know it’s pretty important.”

“I’ll be there in five minutes.”

\---

“Here, Lydia,” Stiles says as he rushes up to Deaton. “Step back.” He pulls out a blue and white piece of material and presses it to Deaton’s face.

“Ew, what is that?” Allison recoils.

Stiles points to the room of cat cages. “It’s one of the used potty pads from in there.”

“Why are you rubbing cat pee on Deaton’s face?” Allison asks.

Stiles shrugs. “Because smelling salts are just ammonia, right? And what’s in cat pee? Ammonia. It’ll totally work. I didn’t think slapping him awake would be good for our relationship, so this is the next best thing.”

Lydia rolls her eyes. “Oh, like when he realizes you wiped cat pee all over his face he’ll consider it a real bonding moment for you two.”

Just then, Derek and half the pack rush into the office. They look around at the mayhem of the scene and don’t even know what to say.

Deaton comes to with a groan. Stiles hurries and throws the soiled potty pad behind him and helps Deaton sit up. “This is unbelievable. Absolutely unbelievable.”

“Der?” Stiles asks as he stands up. “We need to talk.”

Isaac and Boyd move to Deaton and help him up as Stiles stands and walks toward his boyfriend.

“What’s going on?” Scott asks Allison.

“We’ll talk about it in a minute.”

Stiles pulls Derek by the hand toward the waiting room. “I need to tell you something.”

  
  


\---

Derek follows Stiles out to the waiting room. “What’s all over your stomach?” Derek asks pointing to the film of moist goo still clinging to his skin.

“That would be some gel from the ultrasound machine. I may have been a little heavy handed with it.”

“Why was Deaton giving you an ultrasound?” Derek grabs a few tissues from a box on a table and gently wipes the substance off his boyfriend’s stomach.

“Well,” Stiles shifts from foot to foot. “Long story, actually, but a shortened less crazy version is that while we were shopping I realized how stupid I am. I mean,” he corrects himself. “I guess I’m not really that stupid because the answer to the problem is literally the most insane thing in the world. If I would have jumped to that conclusion earlier I would have had to have been crazy.”

“Stiles, just answer me.”

“Oh, yeah. Sorry.” He smiles up at Derek. “I’m pregnant.”

“You’re…” Derek pales. Confusion and shock battle for dominance on his face. 

“Yeah, I know it sounds crazy, babe, but Deaton and the girls can vouch for me.”

“It’s true,” Deaton says as he walks out of the bathroom wiping his face with a wet paper towel. “I have absolutely no idea how it’s possible, but he’s telling the truth.”

Derek has never felt his knees buckle before, but he has a split second to process that is what is happening before he stops processing anything at all.

\---

Lydia and Allison have been trying to keep Scott and Isaac calm. Boyd’s always calm, but the others get jumpy when they can feel that their Alpha is stressed.

Suddenly, they hear a crash echoing from the waiting room. There is a moment of silence before footsteps pound down the hallway. Stiles peeks his head through the door.

“Someone give me that cat pee,” he points to the pad on the floor.

“No,” Lydia says. “Derek will kill you!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you liked it!!! More to come!


	9. Tater Tots

The pack drives back to the Hale house. Each car completely silent. Each member in a stupor; shocked from the news they just heard. Stiles leans his head on the passenger side window. Derek insisted on driving him back in the Camaro, so Scott and the others are in the Jeep. Stiles thinks.

“Stiles,” Deaton had said. “I don’t even know where to start. Give me the rest of the day to try to find something out. Come back in tomorrow.”

He pulls out of his reverie when he feels Derek grasp his hand.

“We’re back,” Derek says. “Wait here.”

Stiles watches as Derek gets out of the car and walks around to the passenger door to help him out. A small smile plays at his lips. “Thanks.”

The pack members that didn’t rush to the clinic all pile out of the house. When they see that everyone is walking toward the house in a dead silence, they quietly wait for someone to say something. No one does, too stunned to say anything.

Boyd stops in front of the pack while Derek, Stiles, Scott, Allison, Lydia, and Isaac bypass them completely.

“Boyd?” Erica asks. She’s extremely nervous. “What’s going on?”

“Stiles. He’s pregnant.”

“What?” She speaks for the whole group.

“We don’t know how. But, Deaton’s sure.”

Erica, Aiden, Ethan, Danny, and their partners silently move into the house. They join the others in the living room.

No one knows how long they sit in silence just staring at each other, but it has to be at least half an hour.

The sound of a phone ringing finally breaks the hush. Stiles moves to pull his phone out of his pocket. He puts it on speaker phone before he answers knowing the wolves will hear anyway. “Hello?”

“Hey, kid,” his dad answers. “You doing okay?”

Stiles wipes his hand down his face. “Uh, yeah. I’m doing… fine?”

“You sure about that?”

He sits up straighter on the couch. “Yes. Why do you ask?”

“Well,” there’s some rustling on the phone like the sound of the Sheriff sitting down. “I just got back to the station. We had a call and had to go to a store that was claiming a man was terrorizing the customers by racing down the aisles and screaming ‘potatoes!’ at anyone who stopped him to ask what was wrong.”

Stiles drops his head into his hands.

His dad continues, “For some reason, I immediately thought of you.”

“Pshhh,” Stiles scoffs. “That totally does not sound like me.” He tries to hide his blush from the pack, but Lydia and Allison just look at him knowingly. They had made a pact to never speak of the situation again so no one else would find out, but there goes that....

“I’ve seen the security footage, Stiles.”

Stiles groans. Isaac laughs. Just like that, the strange spell is broken. Everyone feels like they can breathe again.

“I’m fine, Dad. I just momentarily had a mental breakdown. I’m fine now.” He sighs. “Derek and I will come over after you get off shift and explain things, okay?”

“Sounds good.”

Stiles hangs up the phone and looks around at the pack. “So…”

“How do you feel?” Derek asks him.

“Excited,” he smiles. “But also hungry.” He looks at the girls, “We were supposed to stop at the food court after we were finished. You know how much I love their loaded cheesy tots!”

“I can’t believe you’re pregnant,” Scott says in awe.

“Dude, me neither,” Stiles admits.

“I can,” Allison laughs. “The only reason we didn’t realize is because you’re a guy. Who would ever think that?”

“I have to admit,” Derek says, “out of everything we were worried could be wrong, I didn’t expect male pregnancy.”

Stiles smiles at him. “No one ever expects male pregnancy.”

Scott laughs, “Did you just try to turn that into a Monty Python quote?”

They giggle like the children they are and fist bump each other.

\---

The pack talks for about twenty minutes before the topic of baby showers and nursery themes is all that can be heard. Suddenly, Stiles stands up and interrupts. “Did you guys bring everything from the loft kitchen, too?”

“Yeah,” Isaac says.

“Great.” He squeezes past all the pack members and makes his way to the kitchen. They wait as they hear banging around and the sound of the oven preheating timer.

“Stiles,” Derek finally calls out to him. “What are you doing?!”

“Making some cheesy tots!” the answer floats in from the kitchen. “I’ve been thinking about them for the last half hour and couldn’t take it anymore.”

Of course…

\---

Stiles makes his way back into the living room with a plate piled high with his glorious snack. It’s a relief for the pack to know that his obsession with potatoes is only a pregnancy craving instead of something seriously wrong.

“You know,” Stiles says around a mouthful of cheesy goodness. “People always come up with nicknames for their kid while they’re pregnant.”

“Yeah,” interested members of the pack state.

“I thought of a cute one.” He swallows and smiles. “Little Tater Tot.”

Everyone groans.

  
  


\---

Stiles talks incessantly the entire drive to his dad’s house. He wants to reveal their news in an epic way. There’s not enough time for the baby onesie Stiles found that says “Grandpa’s Little Tater Tot” to get here. No one in Beacon Hills makes Polish cards that say “You’re going to be a dziadek.” He wants the reveal to be absolutely perfect, but he’s going to have to settle for the good old “Hey Dad, I’m pregnant” routine.

The men get out of the car and head up to the front door. Instead of just opening the door and going in, Stiles knocks.

“What the heck are you doing,” Derek asks.

“I don’t know. I’m nervous!”

About that time, the Sheriff opens the door and tells them to come in. “I ordered pizza, hope you haven’t already eaten.”

“We haven’t,” Derek answers because Stiles is completely frozen. He nudges him, and Stiles finally moves to sit down.

“Stiles?” the Sheriff asks. “You okay?”

“I… uh… yeah…”

“We have something to tell you,” Derek speaks. “Stiles, go ahead.”

Stiles’ face burns red, and he tries to speak but only a squeak comes out.

The Sheriff sighs. “Kid, are you going to tell me you’re pregnant now or wait until the kid is born so he can tell me himself?”

Derek and Stiles both freeze. Stiles squawks and points between himself and his father. “You knew?!” He stands up and then sits back down, not knowing at all what to do.

“Well, it was a little obvious.”

“How in the world is your son being pregnant obvious?!”

The Sheriff crosses his legs and leans back in his chair. “Well, for starters, look at yourself. You’ve been throwing up for weeks on end, but you’re still gaining weight. Your food cravings have been out of control. In one of the shopping carts we had to confiscate for evidence today, there were at least five different baby toys piled inside. And,” he holds up a finger when Stiles starts to speak, “don’t try to blame that on Allison. Star Wars teething rings are definitely not her style.”

Derek judges Stiles with his eyebrows.

“What?” Stiles defends himself, “they were cute!”

“And finally, for the last two weeks AT LEAST, Derek has come to work complaining that he can barely sleep because there’s a strange whooshing sound ringing in his ears each night as he tries to go to sleep.”

Stiles turns to Derek. “A whooshing sound? You’ve been able to hear it?!” He smacks Derek in the arm. “You’ve been able to hear the heartbeat, and you still didn’t know what was going on?!”

Derek shakes his head. He closes his eyes to fully focus on listening. “Oh my gosh, Stiles. That’s it.”

Stiles rolls his eyes. “You’re worse than Andrew!”

“Who?”

“Nevermind.” Stiles turns back to his dad. “Why didn’t you say anything?!”

“I was just waiting to see when you’d finally realize,” the Sheriff replies.

“So, you’re not shocked at all?” Stiles shakes his head. “How was I supposed to know? This isn’t exactly a common occurrence!”

“You’ve always been special, kid. It’s not a big surprise you’d be able to.”

“Dad, there’s a big difference in being ‘special’ and being able to do the impossible.”

The Sheriff pinches the bridge of his nose as if this conversation is physically paining him. “Don’t you remember your Aunt Ewa and Uncle Olbrecht?”

Stiles shrugs. “Yeah, I guess so.”

“What do you remember about them?”

“We’d only go see them once a year or so since they lived so far away. I’d always have to bunk with someone because they had like eight kids by the time we visited last. Aunt Ewa was always nice, but honestly all I remember about Olbrecht is that he was a substantially large man who constantly ate perogies.”

“Substantially large man…” The Sheriff repeats. “Good grief, Stiles. And you call yourself perceptive.”

“What are you talking about?” Stiles asks.

“Kid, he was only substantially large for about nine months out of the year. And, I can tell you it wasn’t just from the perogies.”

“Wait…” Stiles pales. “Are you serious?!”

“Why did you think we were never able to take any family pictures when we visited them?”

“I thought they were Amish or something!”


	10. Twice Baked Potatoes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, to celebrate tomorrow being a snow day and to thank you for all the amazing comments, here's your second chapter of the day! This chapter is a redemption for Jeff Davis completely ruining Stiles' family tree information. Sorry if you find my version of the family history to be boring! Any mistakes in the Polish dialogue are Google Translate's fault not mine. :)

“Stiles?” Derek looks over at Stiles who is sleeping in the passenger seat. “Hey, babe, wake up.” Stiles doesn’t move, so he reaches over and gently shakes his arm. “Wake up, Stiles.”

The boy wakes with a start. He jerks forward and screams, “Fat Uncle Olli!”

Not prepared for the outburst, Derek jerks away from him and half wolfs out. “Geeze, Stiles!”

Stiles begins to cry.

“What’s wrong?” Derek asks, concerned.

“I don’t want to be fat like Uncle Olli,” he sobs.

“Stiles, what are you talking about?”

He turns toward Derek. “My Uncle Olbrecht who birthed eight children!”

Derek can’t help but laugh. “Babe, I think your imagination is running wild.”

“No, my dad just told the story…” Stiles looks around. He sees Derek turn off the Camaro. It’s parked in his dad’s driveway.

“We just got here,” Derek unfastens his seatbelt. “Babe, you slept the whole way here.”

Stiles slumps back in his seat. “Oh, thank goodness! You mean that was just a dream?”

“Apparently so.” Derek squeezes his hand. “You ready?”

“Even less ready this time.”

“What do you mean ‘this time’?”

“I’m Groundhog’s Daying it, Der-bear.” Stiles shakes his head. “Oh man. Dad took it so well in my dream.”

“He’ll take it fine,” Derek assures him.

\---

After Derek helps Stiles out of the car, they make their way to the front door. Stiles opens it, and they let themselves in. The Sheriff, hearing the door close, pokes his head out of the kitchen.

“Hi, boys!” He disappears back inside. “I made some chicken and twice-baked potatoes. Hope you haven’t eaten.”

“We haven’t,” Derek answers.

“Hey, uh, Dad? Before we eat…” Stiles cuts off, not really knowing what to say.

The Sheriff comes out of the kitchen with a pinched look of concern on his face. “What’s up?”

Stiles points to the living room furniture. “Maybe you should sit down. I haven’t had much luck with people hearing this while standing.”

The Sheriff sits down in his chair, and the boys sit down beside each other on the couch.

“I know this is going to sound crazy, but you have to believe that I’m telling the truth. Derek and the pack can vouch for me.” Stiles grabs on to Derek’s knee for support.

“This have something to do with the fiasco at the shopping center today?”

Stiles nods. “You know how I’ve been craving potatoes.” His dad nods. “And I haven’t really felt the best.” Nod. “And you can clearly see that I’ve gained a little weight. Not too much weight, but ya know…”

The Sheriff leans toward him, elbows on his knees. “Stiles, where are we going with this?”

“Well,” he says. “I’ve had these symptoms. Hey,” he turns to Derek, “crazy dreams are one too!” He swallows. “Anyway, Dad. I’m… I’m…”

“You’re pregnant,” the Sheriff says.

Stiles gasps. “How… How did you know?! Please don’t say it’s because of Uncle Olbrecht!”

“What? No,” the Sheriff smiles.

“Then, how did you know?!”

“Know what?” He looks at the expression on both his son’s and Derek’s face. They look serious. His stomach drops. “Wait. You’re… you’re serious?”

“Yes, Dad.” Stiles tries to force a slightly panicked smile. “I’m pregnant.”

The Sheriff leans back in his chair. He looks at Derek, “he’s not joking?”

Derek shakes his head. “No.” His gaze falls to Stiles. “We just found out today.”

“Deaton checked. He passed out from the shock of it.”

The Sheriff, though pale, doesn’t pass out. “What do you know so far?”

“Not much,” Stiles admits. “Deaton has never heard of it before, so he’s trying to research. He wants to see me tomorrow.”

“How long… How far along do you think you are?”

Stiles looks at Derek. Derek shrugs. “Um… Well, I guess the earliest symptoms started about two or two and a half months ago. So, I’m at least that.”

“You’ve gained thirteen pounds. Is that a normal amount for two months?” Derek asks.

“Hey, now,” Stiles corrects. “I’ve gained thirteen pounds since I was in high school. I don’t know if all of that was in the past two months or not.”

The sound of a timer going off in the kitchen stops their conversation. The Sheriff jerks his head toward the table. “Want to continue this conversation over dinner?”

“Sure.”

Everyone stands up from their seats. The Sheriff steps toward Stiles and holds out his arms. Stiles easily accepts. Nothing’s better than a Stilinski hug. His dad squeezes him tight and places a kiss to the temple of his head. He turns with a sniff and walks ahead of them to the kitchen.

\---

The chicken is delicious, and Stiles is well onto his third twice baked potato when the Sheriff laughs. Stiles looks over at him and smiles. “What?”

“Your mom would have loved this.”

“Being a grandma,” Stiles supplies.

“No. I mean, yes,” the Sheriff corrects. “But… Your mom once told me the story of her great-grandmother. Your Babcia Lechsinska.” He puts his fork down and settles back in his chair. “I haven’t thought of this story since she told it to me. Apparently, she tried and tried for a child and could never have any. The old family story was through the winter of 1905, your Grandpa Bazyli gained somewhere close to eighty pounds and by spring your Babcia Kasienka was born. The rumor was that Bazyli had the baby for Lechsinska, but both of them adamantly denied it and said that Lechsinska really did have the baby.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Stiles says. “Is this the same side of the family that Uncle Olbrecht belonged to?”

“Well, yes. Kasienka had Marek and Oles. Oles married your grandma Felka. And, then they had Klaudia, your mother, Olbrecht, and your Aunt Aggi.”

Derek interrupts the conversation. “How am I just now hearing about all your family?”

Stiles groans. “We never really associated with them much. They didn’t like that mom married a Norwegian man and kind of lost contact.”

“You’re Norwegian?” he asks Sheriff Stilinski.

“Absolutely. All the Gulsvigs are from Norway. Though, my parents were born in New York and moved out here before I was born,” he answers.

“Wait,” Derek asks again. “Who are the Gulsvigs?”

“My dad’s family,” Stiles answers.

“Then, who are the Stilinskis?”

“My mom’s side,” Stiles laughs as if this should be obvious.

The Sheriff finally explains. “I took Klaudia’s last name. It’s traditional, and my parents wanted me to follow the tradition and take her name.”

“Ok. I think I have it now.”

“You sure?” Stiles smiles. “You’d think you’d understand it since your dad took your mom’s last name too.”

“It’s normal for the Alpha’s mate to take the Alpha’s name, no matter who the Alpha is. It shows respect.”

“It’s kinda the same in Norway. If you don’t want a name to die off or if there’s something special associated with the name…”

“How did we even get into this conversation?” the Sheriff asks.

“Great-great grandpa Bazyli,” Stiles reminds him. “Are you SURE that was just an old family story?”

“Who knows, kid. Especially considering you’re…”

“In the family way?” Stiles puts down his fork. “One last question. Are you sure Aunt Ewe had all eight children, or could Uncle Olli have…”

The Sheriff laughs. “No, Stiles. To my knowledge, those were all pierogies.”

\---

To say today has been a weird day is an understatement. And as weird as it has been, it has been equally exhausting. After dinner, the three men go back into the living room to just sit and zone out. Stiles flips through the channels on the TV not really paying any attention to anything. Suddenly, Derek yawns. Stiles has always thought the way his boyfriend yawns looks like the way Simba roars on The Lion King. It’s super cute and endearing, so of course he giggles.

“Shut up,” Derek says. He nestles his head back into the couch cushion.

“Son, have you been sleeping any better since you’ve been off work?” the Sheriff asks Derek.

“Not really,” Derek answers.

“You never told me that you’ve been having trouble sleeping,” Stiles whines and strokes Derek’s hair.

“It’s not a big deal,” Derek shrugs. “I didn’t want to put any more stress on you. I’ve been worried about you, the stress of getting the house finished, and then there’s been this weird sound I’ve been hearing.”

“You’ve been complaining about that for the last two weeks at least. You still don’t know what it is?” The Sheriff asks.

“No. I checked the pipes and everything. But, last night we didn’t even sleep at the loft, and I still heard it. That same weird whooshing sound.”

Stiles freezes. Eyes going wide and mouth dropping open.

“What’s wrong?” The Sheriff asks.

“Derek? Do you hear it now?” Stiles murmurs.

“Why would I…”

“Just listen. Do you hear it now?”

Derek closes his eyes and listens closely. He turns his head to the side. “Yes. I hear it. What IS that?”

“It’s me.” Stiles is pale. “It’s… It’s the baby. It’s me.”

Derek leans closer to Stiles and listens. “You’re right. Oh my gosh, Stiles. That’s it.”

“Why are you so pale?” the Sheriff asks. “Are you okay?”

“We’ve already had this conversation,” Stiles gulps. “When I had my dream about this on the way here. This is exactly…”

“It’s a coincidence, kid,” the Sheriff assures him.

Stiles stands up and turns to look at his dad. “Did you have to confiscate the carts as evidence today?”

“Yes,” he chuckles. “Once I saw the security footage, I tried to tell them that everything was fine, but the store insisted that we keep it for the investigation.”

“Cool. So, do we even have to pay for it?” Stiles smiles. “No, wait, not what’s important. I’ve dreamed all this. I’m right about Uncle Olli, I’m sure of it. Dad, do you still have their phone number?”

Sheriff Stilinski nods his head. “I have the number they gave us when your mom passed, but they could have changed it since then.”

“Good enough, I’ll try it.” Stiles walks over to the table by the front door. He opens the drawer and pulls out the address book. He flips through it and comes up with the number. He walks back to the couch typing the number into his phone. Out of habit, he puts it on speaker and rests it on the coffee table.

“Hallo?” a voice answers after a few rings.

“Hallo? Ciocia Ewa?”

“Kto to jest?” (Who is this?)

“To jest Stiles. Twój bratanek.” (This is Stiles. Your nephew.) Stiles blushes. “Twój bratanek, Mieczyslaw.”

“O! Miecyzlaw! To było bardzo długo.” (Oh! It has been a very long time.)

“Tak,” ‘yes’ Stiles says. “Mogę rozmawiać z wujem Olli?” (May I speak to Uncle Olli?)

“Jedna minuta,” Ewa says. (One minute.)

Stiles takes a deep breath as he waits for Olbrecht to answer.

“Since when do you know Polish?” Derek asks.

“I know a little,” Stiles shrugs.

Some static crackles on the phone before a man’s voice says, “Hallo?”

“Wujek Olli? Cześć! Um…” Stiles tries to find the words. “Mam do ciebie pytanie.” (I have a question to ask you.)

“Tak.” (Yes.)

“Czy masz dzieci?”

“Tak. Osiem.”

Stiles groans. “I don’t know how to say this. I asked if he had kids and he said he has eight, but I mean…”

The Sheriff holds up his hands. “Don’t look at me, kid. All I know is English.”

Stiles tries again. “Czy miałeś dziecko? Ty? Nie Ciocia Ewa, ale ty?” (Did you have a baby? You? Not Aunt Ewa, but you?) When silence prevails, Stiles adds, “Nie jestem wariatem. Potrzebuję pomocy.” (I’m not a lunatic. I need help.)

Olbrecht sighs. “My English is not great.”

“Neither is my Polish,” Stiles smiles.

His uncle laughs. “You know to ask this. You know my answer.” There’s movement and static again on the phone. “I come to you. Give address to me.”

“I’ll give you Dad’s. 129 Woodbine Lane, Beacon Hills, California. I’m living at 1924 Boulder Street, but Dad’s house is easier to find.”

“I’ll be there tomorrow.”

“Dziękuję Ci!” (Thank you!) Stiles hangs up the phone and sinks back into the couch. He looks at his dad. “I knew that wasn’t all pierogies!”


	11. Baba Kartoflana

Stiles and Derek slowly trudge back into their house. Stiles flings himself down on the couch, and Derek cringes.

“Watch your stomach.”

“Huh?” Stiles questions, raising himself up on his elbows.

“Don’t just… flop down on your stomach.”

Stiles smiles. “I didn’t do it hard. But, I promise to be more careful.” Stiles rolls to his side and pats his hand on the couch. “Come here.”

Derek moves and sits down beside him. Stiles scoots himself over so he can rest his head in his boyfriend’s lap.

“This is crazy,” Derek admits as he looks down at Stiles.

“Tell me about it.” He looks up into Derek’s eyes. “How do YOU feel?”

“Happy. Excited. But also scared. We don’t know how any of this is possible.”

Stiles looks down and starts poking his stomach. “We’ll know more tomorrow.”

“Any idea when he’ll be here?”

“He’s flying in from Ohio. I guess it just depends on the soonest flight.” He spreads his hand across the slight swell of his stomach.

“I thought you always said you were human.”

“Hey!” Stiles scoffs. “I am, thank you very much!”

\---

By midnight, the duo heads to bed. They fall asleep in each other’s arms. The exhaustion of the day takes over, and they sleep soundly. Unfortunately, morning comes way too quickly. Stiles groans as he forces himself out of bed. They’re both slowly getting dressed when Stiles rushes to the bathroom.

Derek cringes at the sound of Stiles getting sick. He hates that Stiles has to go through it. He walks to the bathroom and lets himself in. “Need something?”

Stiles shakes his head. “I don’t know if it’s the baby or if it’s just my nerves.” He stares straight ahead at the back of the toilet seat. “The baby… Der, how is this real? The fact that we’re having this conversation right now is just insane.”

“Hey,” Derek squats down beside him, “I think it’s great. Weird, yes. But, also great.”

“Me too,” Stiles whispers.

“Feeling better?” Derek waits for Stiles to nod in response. “Okay, let’s head over to your dad’s.”

The Sheriff was restless all night, so breakfast is hot and waiting for their arrival. Stiles is wrapped in a tight hug the moment he enters the house.

“Hey, Dad.”

“Morning.” He gives one last great squeeze. “I made breakfast.”

“Awesome.”

The three men head into the kitchen and pile their plates high. It’s nice. Just the three of them. And a mountain of hash browns.

They talk as they eat, mostly about the weather and random things. All of them clearly nervous about the day. A rapping at the door makes all of them freeze. Stiles gulps down his last bite and stands.

When Stiles swings open the door, he’s in absolute shock. He looks at the man in front of him. Middle aged, tall, dark brown hair, and a splattering of freckles and moles across his face. But most importantly, thin. Stiles forces himself to keep standing instead of dropping to his knees. “Oh thank goodness. I’ll get my figure back,” Stiles says to himself.

“Miecyzlaw?”

“Tak. Wujek Olli?” Stiles motions for him to come inside. “Chodź do środka!”

The man enters the house and is greeted by Sheriff Stilinski. “Olbrecht! It’s good to see you.”

“Noah,” Olbrecht holds out his hand. “Dziękuję za przyjęcie mnie.” At the Sheriff’s confused look, he says, “Thank you for having me.”

“Thank you for coming.”

Stiles takes his jacket and tosses it on the coat rack. “Uncle Olli, this is Derek.” He points and motions for Derek to come over to them. “Derek’s my boyfriend.”

Olbrecht’s eyes grow wide. “Not married?”

“No,” Stiles responds.

“Nieślubny,” (out of wedlock) he says as he cups his hand around Stiles’ cheek and then smacks it.

“Ow!” Stiles flinches.

Olbrecht turns to Derek and glares at him. “You fix this!” He holds up his hand and points to the wedding band. “Szybko. Quickly.”

“Yes, sir,” Derek responds.

Stiles rolls his eyes. “You’re an Alpha. Act like it.”

Derek blushes.

“Alfa?” Olbrecht asks.

“Oops,” Stiles says. He’s so used to everyone knowing about the hairy situation that sometimes he forgets. “Yeah, like a pet name…”

Olbrecht hushes him and turns back to Derek. “Jesteś wilkołakiem? Wilkołak? Werewolf?”

Derek nods.

“How do you know about werewolves?” Stiles gasps.

Olbrecht rolls his eyes and sits down. “Klaudia,” he makes the shape of a cross over his heart and looks down at his clasped hands for a moment before continuing, “was training to be emisariusz for the local wilkołak pack before she met Noah.” He smiles at the memory. “Your Babcia Felka was so mad. Klaudia would have been wealthy and notable, but she settled for…” he nods his head toward the Sheriff, who huffs.

“Wait,” Stiles says. “Mom was training to be an emissary?”

“Tak. She would have been great.”

“I thought only druids could be emissaries? Are we druids?” Stiles sits down beside him on the couch.

He looks shocked. “Who told you that nonsense?!”

“The local emissary.”

“Idiota,” he mumbles under his breath. “No. We are not druids. I spit the word.”

“Then, what are we? How can I be pregnant?!”

Olli smiles. “Our family is special. We were gifted for our faith. Babcia Lechsinska never lost hope of having a little one. Dziadek Bazyli was given a blessing.”

“So that’s true. He gave birth to Babcia Kasienka.”

“Tak. Yes.” Olli looks wistfully to his memories. “But, the people of their town thought it not a blessing, but a cursing. Evil. Bazyli and Lechsinska tried to hide it, but they were thought to be czarownice. Witches. We Polish hate czarownice. They finally had to run away. They moved to a new village where no one knew them. Rumors followed.”

“What happened?” Stiles asks.

“They finally came to America. They tried to distance themselves from their past even though they knew in their hearts it was a blessing,” Olli continues.

“And, I have this blessing, too?”

“Of course.” Olbrecht reaches into a bag he has carried with him and pulls out a small leather book. He hands it to Stiles. “I wrote all I know on my journey here. When I found out I was bearing, I had no one and nothing to help me. I was terrified. My father, your Dziadek Oles, was already with the effects of dementia at the time, so his ramblings of memories of his grandparents were hard to trust. But, you have me. I help you with all I can.”

“How can we do this?” Stiles asks. “How did I even know about you?”

“Babcia Kasienka called it iskra i byt. Spark and life. You and I… your mother as well… We are iskra istnienia. We are the spark of existence. This is the greatest good there can be. Because of Bazyli and Lechsinska’s belief, we are blessed for our belief. Iskra istnienia must only believe, and it will be created.”

“But, I didn’t believe. I didn’t even think it was possible to have a baby. How did I create it?”

“Your iskra, your spark believed for you.” He turns toward Derek. “Just like the wolf and the man are one and the same they are also separate. You are you but you are also iskra istnienia.”

Derek speaks up. “When we found out about Scott and Allison having a baby, you started thinking about it. Could thinking about it have caused it?”

Olbrecht nods. “Not thinking, but a longing. That true desire.” He places his hand on Stiles’ knee. “Ask me anything, Mieczylaw.”

“How…” Stiles can barely force the words out. “How many of your kids did you have?”

“Trzy. Three.” He turns his attention to the Sheriff. “We tried to hide it. Klaudia knew, but she kept it from even you.” He looks at Stiles. “You have always been curious. I had Bronislaw first, but when I was carrying Basia and Jasia, you were there for a visit. I remember you were no more than four, but you asked your mamusia ‘why is Uncle Olli eating in the kitchen when everyone else taking picture?’. Klaudia always joking and laughing. She say ‘Your Uncle Olli is amisz.’”

Stiles laughs. He doesn’t remember the conversation, but he remembers the dream he just had.

“You have love in your heart. We live in Ohio. Amisz all around! You asked your mamusia, ‘why he not have beard and hat?’. Klaudia say ‘he too poor with six kids to buy hat’. You begged your mamusia to take you to Amisz gift shop and buy me hat. I still have that hat.” He cups Stiles’ cheek but doesn’t slap it this time. “Iskra istnienia chose well to choose you for the blessing.”

“I have so many questions,” Stiles admits.

“I will help with anything you need.”

“Will you go with me to talk to Deaton? He’s the emissary and vet. The pack doctor.”

“Eugh,” Olli sighs. “The druid. Yes, I’ll go. But first, I make you food.”

“We just had breakfast. You really don’t need to…”

He cuts Stiles off. “I make with potatoes, tak?”

“How do you know about potatoes?” Stiles is stunned.

Olbrecht just rolls his eyes. “A little baby weighs eight, nine pounds. I gain fifty, sixty. I know a lot about potatoes.” Stiles blushes as Olbrecht stands. He turns to the Sheriff. “Noah, I use your kitchen, yes?”

“Of course, use whatever you need.”

“Come on,” Olli motions for Stiles to follow him. “I’m only staying two days. I teach you everything while I’m here.” He starts rummaging around the kitchen and pulling out pots and pans. His actions are so much like Stiles that it’s unbelievable.

“What are you making?” Stiles is curious.

“Everything you need.” He lifts a bag of potatoes onto the countertop. “What have you been eating to help with cravings?”

“Curly fries, hash browns, baked potatoes… Mashed potatoes with ice cream…”

Olli groans. “Ooh, with melted czekolada drizzled on top?”

Stiles laughs. “No, I never got to try it with chocolate. Derek thought it was gross enough the way it was.”

Olli shrugs. “Next time you flip him off and say ‘I’m pregnant. Poo on you.”

Stiles smiles and turns toward Derek. “Yeah, Derek. I’m pregnant. Poo on you!”

“Lord, help us. It’s like there’s two of him,” Sheriff Stilinski bemoans as he enters the kitchen.

“Okay, Mieczysław. I teach you the recipes that really satisfy the baby.” He stops and really looks at him. “Or babies. You look awfully big already.”

“Hey! Thirteen pounds. Since high school!”

Olli waves him off. “I start with pierogies. My favorite. Cheese and potato filling. Then, we make latkes. Is a Jew even a Jew if he can’t make latkes? The answer is no.” He turns again to the Sheriff. “Do you have bacon fat?”

“In this house?” The Sheriff scoffs. “With that kid and my heart? I can only wish.”

“Okay, Wolfie. You go out and buy more potatoes, plenty of bacon, and a ring,” he again points to his ring finger, “while you’re at it.”

Derek turns and does as he’s told as Stiles just laughs. “What are we making with bacon fat?”

“Baba kartoflana.” He holds out his hands. “Big potato pie complete with all the dripping from bacon. So good!” He starts shredding some of the potatoes. “That is all the time for today before going to see your vet man, but after that we go shopping for ourselves and I give you instruction on placki ziemniaczane and kotlety ziemniaczane and babka ziemniaczane. Then there is kluski śląskie, pyzy, and kopytka. And knedle for dessert!” The uncle rambles on. “And those are just the Polish recipes. I have recipes for potato salad and potato stew. Potato candy and potato truffles. Potato cake. Have you craved sweet potatoes? If so, there is sweet potato pie, sweet potato bars, sweet potato pudding, sweet potato brownies…”


	12. Forget the Potatoes!

Stiles is in a potato-induced food coma when Derek shakes him awake. “You need to wake up so we can head over to Deaton’s,” Stiles thinks he hears his boyfriend say.

He groans. He tries to sit up but finds that he can’t. He opens his bleary eyes only to find that the reason he can’t get up is his uncle. His uncle who is currently slumped over on top of his right arm, snoring, and drooling into his shirt.

“Gross,” Stiles pries himself out from underneath the man. Olbrecht falls over onto the now empty couch cushion and continues to snore. “Olli. Hey, Uncle Olli!” Stiles yells.

The middle aged man jumps and flails onto the floor. “Tak. I’m up. I’m up.”

Stiles rolls his eyes and gives Derek a quick kiss. “Let me go change my water-logged shirt, and I’ll be ready to go.”

\---

Olbrecht scowls harder and deeper the closer they get to the clinic. Both Stiles and Derek are nervous. If Olbrecht is this mad now, they can’t imagine how he will react when he actually meets Deaton.

Derek tries to stay calm behind the wheel. Stiles nervously looks over at him and then glances into the back seat at his uncle. “Uncle Olli?”

“Głupi człowiek. Nie nadaje się na emisariusz. Tylko druidzi mogą być emisariuszami. Głupi. Idiota. Kopnij go w twarz!” (Stupid man. He isn't fit to be an emissary. ‘Only druids can be an emissary.’ Stupid. Idiot. Kick him in the face.) Olbrecht mumbles under his breath.

Stiles doesn’t understand all the words he’s saying, but the ones he catches make him chuckle. “Uncle…” Stiles stops talking when the Camaro suddenly dies. “Der? What’s wrong with the car?”

Derek tries to maneuver the dead car off to the side of the road and puts it in park. “I have no idea.” He tries to start the engine again, but nothing happens. It doesn’t even try to start. “This has never happened before.”

“Great,” Stiles huffs. “Now what are we going to do?”

Derek shrugs. “I guess we’ll have to walk the rest of the way to Deaton’s and then have it towed.

Stiles groans. “Uncle Olli.” The man continues to mumble. “Uncle Olli!” Olbrecht finally stops cursing under his breath and looks up at Stiles. “The car stopped. We’re going to have to walk the rest of the way.”

“Sorry,” he looks almost ashamed. “I’ll stop. Go ahead and try it again.”

Derek and Stiles look at each other in confusion. “What?” Stiles finally says.

“I said, go ahead and try it again.” Olli points at the ignition.

Derek cautiously does as he’s told. This time, the car bursts to life just like it always does. The men share another dubious glance. Stiles turns back to his uncle. “Olli? I’m supposed to believe you did that?!”

“My emotions got a little out of control. I apologize.”

“You got over emotional and killed the engine with your mind or belief or whatever…”

“Better the car than the vet man.”

\---

After a very tense face off between the two men and a few magically flickering lights, Olbrecht finally takes a deep breath, puts a smile on his face, and greets Deaton calmly.

Stiles isn’t sure if he should be more worried about being pregnant or finding out he can apparently control electricity with his emotions, too. All the information being discussed is overwhelming. Olbrecht and Deaton ramble on and on about the hows and whys and whats while Stiles just tries to keep breathing. At one point Derek leans into him and places a calming hand around the back of his neck. It’s grounding, and Stiles appreciates it.

“So, how much training does it take to control this spark?” Deaton asks.

Olbrecht groans as he rolls his eyes. “Training? What you mean training? There is no training. You keep your deepest desires in check and, BOOM, life goes on. Now, you let emotions get out of check and that bin of herbs over there go flying into that stupid head of yours.”

Deaton calmly blows air from his nose and looks over at Stiles. “It’s like there’s two of you.”

“Guys, all this info is great and all, but I feel a more pressing concern is…”

“Why do you think everything is training? You and you stupid druid ways,” Olbrecht rambles on.

“Uncle Olli…” Stiles tries again.

“Because training is the basis of mastering anything,” Deaton counters.

“Deat…” Stiles says.

“There is no training for something that comes naturally. Iskra istnienia knows what to do. You do not train iskra istnienia. What an insult!”

“Please, guys! I just need to know where…” Stiles gets more and more frustrated the longer the argument goes on. The angrier he gets the more jittery he feels. Not even Derek’s hand can keep him calm. He feels like his skin is on fire with all the built up frustration and nervous energy. “Shut up!” he finally screams at the same time all the lights in the ceiling blow up and shower sparks into the air.

The four men stand in shock for a moment before Olbrecht shouts “Haha! Try training that, vet man!”

Stiles yells again, “Just shut up and tell me where the heck the baby is going to come out!” He takes a few heaving breaths to calm down. “I feel like that is a very important piece of information that you seem to be skipping over! If you haven’t noticed, I don’t have the right parts for that.”

Olbrecht steps toward him. “Believe that the baby will come out, and it will come out.”

Stiles growls. “That doesn’t tell me anything!”

“Mieczysław, let me talk to you,” Olli pulls Stiles toward the corner of the room. He talks in a hushed whisper. “The thought that always helped me was ‘ oddychać głęboki i powić’. That means ‘breathe deeply and bring forth’. Keep that thought in your mind. There is pain and fear, but when you stay calm iskra istnienia will take over. All you must do is believe, and it will happen.”

“That still doesn’t tell me anything. I need to know how.”

“No, you don’t.”

“Yes, I do.”

“No, you don’t.”

“Yes.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“No, you really don’t.”

“YES, I DO!”

Olbrecht sighs and lowers his voice even more. The words ‘opening’, ‘loosening’, ‘gushing’, and ‘tearing’ have never sounded more terrifying. Stiles begins to get pale before the final logistics are discussed. When they are…

Stiles makes a choked off screaming sound and proceeds to faint. Olbrecht tries to catch him, he really does, but one moment the boy is standing there and the next he’s splattered unconscious across the floor.

“Stiles,” Derek begins to rush to him, but Deaton holds up a hand. And, when Deaton holds up a hand, you better stop.

“Oh no. Let me.” It almost looks as if he’s smiling as he turns and walks toward the cat room.


	13. Spiral Potatoes

“So, then, after I finished washing the cat pee off my face, Deaton did another ultrasound,” Stiles relays information to his father as they finish putting dinner on the table.

“What did you find out,” the Sheriff sits down in his seat. He scoops a portion of potato dumplings onto his plate before passing the bowl to Olbrecht.

“Well,” Stiles sighs as he finally sits himself down. “I’m right at three months. So, a bit farther along than I thought. Makes me feel a little better about my weight.”

Derek about chokes on his bite of food. Stiles glares at him.

“What is that supposed to mean?” he asks.

Derek doesn’t want to say, but he does. “I looked it up online. What to Expect While You’re Expecting.com says you should gain two to four pounds during the entire first trimester. You’ve gained thirteen.”

“Since high school!” Stiles squeals. “Why does everyone leave that fact out?! I surely gained weight during college. I couldn’t expect to stay at 147 forever.”

“You’ve only looked like you’ve gained weight for the past three months, kid,” his dad admits.

“Rude.”

Olbrecht speaks up. “You only need to be gaining about a pound a week from now until the baby is born. Just do your best.”

“How much is normal to gain total?” Stiles asks Derek. “Mr. I-Already-Looked- Up-Everything-You-Need-To-Know, tell me oh wise one.”

Derek blushes. “Thirty-five pounds, give or take a few.”

“And you’ve already blown through thirteen of those,” his dad says.

Stiles throws a dumpling at him. “Shush it.” He turns to Olbrecht. “How much did you gain? When you were pregnant with just one?”

He lowers his fork without taking a bite. “Seventy-two.”

Stiles smacks his head into the table. “Great. Just great.”

\---

Saturday is spent learning as much as he can from his uncle before he flies back to Ohio that night. Derek and Stiles spend Sunday dinner with Sheriff Stilinski and then go home for the night.

Stiles is about ready to lose his mind. Derek is pacing and tapping, glancing at Stiles and whining, cleaning things that are already clean.

“Babe, sit down.” Stiles turns and leans over the back of the couch so he can look at Derek. “We can watch a movie.”

“I want to make sure this is clean,” Derek says as he mops under the furniture.

“It’s clean. We literally just moved in.”

“You never know. Someone might have dropped something.”

Stiles groans. “The baby is still inside me. It’s not crawling yet. It can’t eat anything off the floor. And, we don’t have pets.”

“Better safe than sorry.”

“Surely you don’t think I’M going to eat stuff off the floor!” Stiles gasps.

Derek finally stops. He rolls his eyes. “No, Stiles. Why would I think that? It’s not like I had to smack the dumpling you threw at your father Friday night out of your hand when you found it and decided there wasn’t too much dirt on it.”

“That was a ONE TIME thing. I swear.” Stiles whines. “Come on, babe. Just sit down. I would like to actually enjoy our last evening before you go back to work tomorrow." The sound Derek makes can only be described as a whimper. “Babe, what’s wrong?”

Derek finally puts the mop down and moves to sit beside Stiles. Stiles turns and pulls his feet up, legs crisscrossed in front of him. He looks toward Derek.

“I don’t want to leave you by yourself,” Derek admits.

“Why not? I’ve been by myself most of the time since I quit my job.”

“But, you’re pregnant.”

“I was pregnant when I quit my job, too. Like, I’ve literally been pregnant this whole time. It’s kinda how it works.”

Derek huffs. “I know that. It’s just… I didn’t know it before. But, now that I do…”

“You’re going to worry about me this whole time, aren’t you?”

“Of course I am.”

Stiles crawls forward into Derek’s lap. “You can worry about me later. Just have a good time now.”

“Are you propositioning me?” Derek looks into the boy’s eyes. “Or are you still just wanting to watch a movie?”

Stiles grins. “What do you think?”

\---

Stiles groans when he hears Derek’s alarm go off early Monday morning, but he covers his head with his pillow and goes back to sleep. He feels Derek kiss his shoulder before he leaves and mumbles a goodbye.

Stiles sleeps for another hour or so before he starts thinking about that potato pancake recipe Uncle Olli left. He gets out of bed, throws some lounge clothes on and heads down the stairs toward the kitchen. He doesn’t even make it to the living room before yelping.

“Ahh!” he shrieks. He clutches his hand to his chest. “Allison? What are you doing here?”

Allison stands from the couch and walks over to Stiles to hug him. “I’m on babysitting duty.”

“He didn’t,” Stiles growls.

“He did,” she nods.

“We find out I’m pregnant, and he suddenly doesn’t trust me to be left alone.” Stiles turns and walks into the kitchen.

“Honestly, I don’t think he ever really trusted you before,” Allison admits.

Stiles laughs. “You’re right.” He pulls out a pan and six potatoes. “Do you want some potato pancakes?”

“Sure,” Allison agrees.

“Okay.” He pulls out four more from the bag before twisting it closed and putting it back where it belongs. “So, what are we going to do today? Ideas???”

“First…” Allison heads back into the living room and quickly returns with a book. “I wanted to give this to you.”

Stiles takes it. “What To Expect…” he reads off the cover and then looks at the sticky note covering the bottom part of the book, “... When You’re Expecting A Magical Were-Baby.” He laughs. “Thanks, Ally.” He puts it down on the counter as he starts shredding potatoes. “Though, we’re not sure if it’s going to be a little wolfie, yet.”

“You’ll be able to tell,” Allison says while putting a hand on her stomach. “This little girl’s too strong to be human.”

Stiles smiles. “You can feel her?”

“Of course, I can!”

“This is so weird.”

\---

Stiles starts flipping through the book as they eat their pancakes. “Hey,” he says around a mouthful. “Deaton says I’m due January 15th. If I’m reading this right, that means July 17th marks the start of my second trimester. That’s today.”

Allison leans over and looks at the page. “Yeah, that’s right.” She pushes her plate to the side. “And, you conceived on…” she laughs, “April 24th.”

Stiles blushes. “Shush.”

Allison pokes him in the side. “You had birthday sex.”

“I said, shush!” Stiles puts his fork down. “I wonder if my spark was stronger since it was my birthday?”

“Who knows. You’ll have to add that to the list of things to ask your uncle.”

“He left just over a day ago, and I already have a list a mile long,” Stiles shakes his head. “He’s going to be sick of hearing from me.” He finishes his pancakes and stands to put the dishes in the sink. “You’re in your second trimester, tell me what you know.”

Allison laughs. “I’m starting my third, thank you very much.” She stands and moves to dry the dishes that Stiles washes. “But, I’d be more than happy to share my knowledge.”

\---

There’s only so much pregnancy talk you can endure before you start to get overwhelmed, so part way through the day the duo starts a movie. It’s some romcom that Allison chose. A wedding photographer falls in love with the groom-to-be and yada yada yada. It’s so cheesy… They’re both wiping tears from their eyes by the end of it.

“You should do that,” Allison whispers from behind her tissue.

“Do what?”

Allison blows her nose then speaks. “Your photography. You really should get started. Create a business.”

“Ally, I’m pregnant,” he says. “I can’t get clients looking like I’m hiding a basketball under my shirt.”

She rolls her eyes at him. “You don’t look like that, yet! You could easily pick up a few jobs before you actually start showing. Right now, you just look… chubby.”

“Hey!”

“All I’m saying is you should get started. If you start building your website and portfolio and online presence now, by the time you have the baby and are ready to work again, you’ll be ready!”

He sighs. “I guess you’re right. But, I don’t know how to do any of that.”

Five hours later, when Derek’s walking through the door, a basic website is finished (though not perfect). Derek walks through the living room and presses a kiss to Stiles’ head.

“Hey, Der! Look!” Stiles points to the laptop screen. “Ally helped me with my photography site.”

“It looks great,” Derek looks at Allison and gives her a nod. She smiles at him knowingly and mouths 'you're welcome'.

\---

“Derek!!! Derek!!!!! Come here!!!!!”

Derek runs full speed into the kitchen. He’s half wolfed out and scanning the room for a threat. Stiles jumps up from the stool at the kitchen island and starts bouncing around in front of him.

“Derek!!! Derek, look!!!”

As Derek starts to calm down, he registers that Stiles is pointing at his laptop screen. He lets the red bleed out of his eyes and focuses on what’s on the screen.

“What is it?”

“It’s an email!” Stiles smiles. “I have my first client!” Stiles flails his arms in the air. “There’s a family that wants me to take some pictures of their products so they can display the pictures in the windows of their booth at the fair in two weeks.”

“That’s great, Stiles,” Derek smiles before kissing him. The kiss is quick and unsatisfying because Stiles is still too busy hopping around the kitchen.

“They’ve never had a food booth before. They’re just starting out and all the other photographers were too expensive. Since I’m just starting out, too, I made them a deal.”

“What deal was that?”

“$100 and free samples. Isn’t that great?!”

“Yep, that will definitely put our child through college.”

“Shut up,” Stiles smacks him in the shoulder. “It’s a start. Plus, they have those spiral deep fried potatoes on a stick. This is going to be awesome!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments bring me joy. Tell me what you think. I am so excited for the next chapter!


	14. Seven Pounds of Potatoes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love this chapter. For those of you concerned about the way Stiles’ weight is being treated, I swear redemption is coming. But, until then, enjoy...

Stiles bemoans the fact that pregnancy is so confusing the entire way to Deaton’s office. Why do some people say the second trimester begins at this week and why do some say that it begins that week? This month starts then, but this week starts then.

“It’s so frustrating!” Stiles screams.

Derek just continues to drive to the clinic. “Babe, it will be okay.”

“But, I’m concerned here. Deaton said I am due on January 15th, but if he was calculating from my last menstrual cycle instead of the date of conception, we could be two weeks off.”

“Stiles, you didn’t have a menstrual cycle.”

“Exactly!” Stiles wails. “So, I’m supposed to be 16 weeks according to Deaton, but what if I’m only 14 weeks. But, according to Deaton, I got pregnant on my birthday. If I actually got pregnant two weeks before that, I could still be 16 weeks!” Stiles pinches the bridge of his nose and looks exactly like his father. “Why do they make this so hard?!”

“Breathe, babe.” Derek pulls into the lot. He parks, gets out of the car, and helps Stiles out.

“It’s so hot out here!” Stiles starts fanning himself with his hand.

Derek just rolls his eyes and holds the back door open for Stiles to enter the building.

Deaton is cleaning up from the day, and turns to look at them. “Good afternoon. Stiles, go ahead and hop up on the table.”

Stiles does as he’s told. He pulls down the band on the makeshift male maternity jeans Mrs. McCall so generously sewed for him and, then, rests his head on an arm he folds behind his head. “I’m surprised you didn’t weigh me first.”

Deaton steps up to him and starts gently pressing around his stomach. “To be completely honest, I’m a bit apprehensive about weighing you today.”

Stiles blushes, “Excuse me?”

“You’ve clearly gained more weight. You’re wearing maternity jeans already, and...”

“Great. Just great.”

\---

Stiles slumps into the Hale House and sinks into the couch cushions. “Humiliating!”

“Stiles,” Derek comforts. “Don’t worry about it.”

He glares at his boyfriend. “I’ve gained seven pounds in two weeks! That’s twenty-freaking-pounds!”

“Since high school,” Derek adds as he sits down beside Stiles. “You keep leaving that out.”

“Stop it, Derek. We both know good and well that I only started gaining weight when you knocked me up.” He starts to cry. “Twenty pounds!”

“Maybe it’s normal…”

“Allison is into her seventh month now. And how much weight has she gained? Huh?”

Derek refuses to answer. He won’t look Stiles in the eye. He won’t. He sighs when he feels Stiles’ eyes boring into him. “Eighteen.”

“Exactly! In sixteen, give or take a few, weeks I’ve gained more than she has!”

Derek reaches over and pulls Stiles into his side, wrapping his arm around him. “You’re fine, Stiles.”

“And the worst thing,” Stiles gulps, “is that I don’t even look pregnant. I just look fat.”

“You’re not fat.”

“I have a ROLL of fat hiding behind this spandex band, babe. A ROLL.”

Derek sighs and takes the opportunity to change the subject. “Since you don’t look pregnant yet, you can take that job offer, right?”

Stiles groans. “No. Babe. I had three small jobs in a week and a half because of referrals. That was great! But, I’m done. Until after this baby is out of me, I mean. No one wants a fat man waddling around taking pictures.”

“No one would even see you. You read the email yourself, the fiancé-to-be just wants you to come and take pictures of the decorations BEFORE the proposal. He doesn’t even want you to take pictures of the event itself, just the decorations.”

“I don’t know, Der.” Stiles leans his head on his shoulder. “They’d still see me when they paid me.”

“Please, Stiles. I think this would be a really good opportunity for you.”

  
  


\---

Stiles whines as Derek pulls up to the State Park. “You sure this is the place?”

“Yes, this is the address from the last email.” Derek leans forward and looks around. “I’ll go with you if it will make you feel better.”

Stiles nods. They get out of the Camaro and start walking around, trying to find the spot he’s supposed to be photographing. “I don’t see it, babe.”

Derek points toward a shelter house. “Look, there’s a woman over there. That has to be it.” They walk toward the wooden building. It looks like a large cabin.

“Stiles?” the woman asks as they get closer.

“Yes. Good morning,” Stiles responds professionally. “I hope you don’t mind that I brought my boyfriend with me.”

“Oh, no. That’s fine,” she smiles. “Everything is set up inside. Take your time. The guests won’t be here for a while.” She holds out an envelope. “Here’s your payment.”

“Oh,” Stiles says. “You don’t have to pay me yet, I haven’t even done anything.”

Derek elbows him. “They’re supposed to pay before.”

Stiles mumbles back to him, “I know that, but I’m just starting out. I’m trying to be nice.”

The woman interrupts them, “I’ll leave you to it.”

“Thank you.”

Stiles walks into the building first. “Wow.” He looks around at the flowers and greenery hanging from the ceiling and spilling down the walls of the large room. “This… this is amazing.” He immediately preps his camera and begins snapping shots.

He walks around from one area of the room to another. He takes pictures of the candles that line the entire back wall, climbing skyward on each piece of stone on the fireplace. 

“Ooh, how cute.” He steps toward a small table that holds a cake. He takes full shots and detailed shots of the greenery and the “H” cake topper.

“It’s cute, but not as good as one of yours,” he says to Derek.

Derek blushes. “Thanks, babe.”

Half an hour later, Stiles is finally to the end of his shot list. “This is so weird. Why would they want all these shots of the decorations and not want me to be here to take pictures of the proposal?!” Stiles steps in front of a small display that holds the closed ring box. “I mean, I know I didn’t market myself as a photographer of people, but I could do it. I could do portraits and action shots… Stuff like that. And, yeah, I’m fat, but I could still blend into the background. They’d never know I was here.”

Stiles looks through his camera to line up the shot of the ring box. Suddenly a hand ruins the shot entirely. “Derek. Derek what are you doing? Don’t touch it! It’s not yours. Put it back. Put it back!”

“Stiles…”

“No, babe,” he looks around as if the authorities will swoop in and arrest them for disturbing the beautiful decorations. “I’m serious. I’m supposed to come, take pictures, and leave. Put it back!” He stares in horror as Derek opens the box. “Derek Samuel Hale, PUT. THAT. BACK!”

“Stiles…” Derek sinks down to one knee. “I’ve been in love with you since the day I first met you.”

Stiles’ eyes go wide. “Derek…”

“You’re the best thing that has ever happened to me. I’ve known for a long time that I would spend forever with you, but I want to make it official.”

“Oh my gosh…”

“And, I swear that this has nothing to do with Olbrecht’s threatening Polish text messages he sends me twice a week.”

Stiles laughs through the tears forming in his eyes.

“So...”

Movement catches Stiles’ attention and he turns his head to the right. The entire pack has crowded into the far side of the shelter house.

“This is too much for a proposal… Derek, I never expected…”

“Stiles. Will you marry me…”

The boy is shaking his head yes before Derek even finishes the question.

“...Today?”

“Yes!” Stiles shouts but then freezes. “Wait… What? Today?!”

“Yes. Right here. Right now.”

Stiles gasps. “Noooooo… Look at what I’m wearing.”

“Your suit is in the bathroom.”

“What?!” Stiles looks around as Allison and Lydia start pulling him toward the restrooms. “What about… What about vows and stuff?”

Derek points to the payment envelope still sticking out of Stiles’ back pocket. “They’re there. And, don’t worry. I made the cake. We have plenty of flowers. Rings are here. We’re good to go.”

“Oh my gosh.” Stiles finally lets the girls pull him away. “Oh my gosh.”

The kiss they share after Deaton pronounces them as married is hands down the best kiss Stiles has ever experienced. Stiles Mieczyslaw Hale


	15. A Collection of Deleted Scenes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Several weeks pass between the wedding and my next chapter, so I wanted to fill the space with something. These two scenes were edited from the original chapters because of their different points of view. I wanted to share them with you now as a reward for all the love and comments. New chapter tomorrow!!!

Flashback to -Chapter 4- Au Gratin- 

Derek’s werewolf ears tune into the quiet noises coming from the kitchen. He tries to ignore it, but he hears the oven preheating. He lies there for a while longer but finally can’t take it. Raising his head and looking at the alarm clock, he sees it is just past one in the morning. He yawns and stands up.

“Hey, babe,” Derek yawns again as he enters the kitchen. “What are you doing?

Stiles turns from the oven and looks at Derek. “I’m making some au gratin potatoes.”

Derek furrows his brows. “At one a.m.?”

“They sounded good.”

Derek rubs a hand over his face. He can hear Stiles eating something as he cleans up the mess he made. “What are you eating?”

“Potatoes.” Stiles states simply. 

“I thought they were in the oven.”

“Those are.” Stiles picks up another slice of potato from a plate beside the stove. “But I was hungry and thought I would eat what I had left over.”

Derek does a double take. “Are those raw?!”

“Uh… yeah?”

“Stiles! You can’t eat raw potatoes!”

“They taste fine.” Stiles shrugs. “The one I dipped in mustard, not so much.”

Derek has been worried about Stiles for a while now, but this is just insane. He walks toward the stove and picks up the plate. 

“Hey!” Stiles grabs the other side of the plate and yanks it back. Derek doesn’t let go. “Those are mine.”

“You’re eating raw potatoes at one o’clock in the morning. Stiles, give me the plate.”

“No!” They tug back and forth on the plate for a moment. Derek realizes how crazy this whole situation is and finally relents. He let’s go… right as it slips from Stiles’ hand as well. The plate clatters to the floor and raw slices of potato splatter everywhere.

Stiles looks dejectedly at the ground. “My potatoes…” he whispers.

Derek watches him, heart sinking as he realizes that tears are welling up in the boy’s eyes. Stiles sniffles, trying his best to hold back the whimpers. 

Derek is about to apologize when the timer for the au gratin potatoes goes off. Stiles immediately smiles. “Ooh, they’re ready!”

Derek slowly backs away and retreats to the bedroom. He has to talk to someone… soon.

Flashback to -Chapter 7-Aisles of Potatoes-

Stiles doesn’t stop to think about what the pregnant woman and her friend think of him. He just knows that he needs to find Lydia and Allison. He’s pregnant. He doesn’t know how, but he is. He just has to find them.

The problem is, he can’t remember where their agreed upon meeting spot was supposed to be. He needed to pick up the towels and then what… He’s forgotten his list in the existential panic of ‘holy crap I’m pregnant’. Screw it. He’ll find them. The store isn’t that big. 

“Lydia!!!” Stiles screams as he races past yet another aisle. “Not good. Not good. Allison!!!”

Stiles frantically runs in and out of each aisle. He can’t find the girls anywhere. He dashes left and crashes into an elderly man riding a mobility scooter. The force of the impact catapults Stiles into the attached cart. He’s literally butt first into this gentleman’s basket, knees up to his ears, and legs dangling outside the cart. And the man doesn’t stop.

“Sir… Sir!!!” Stiles screams as his ankle hits into a display rack and starts pulling it alongside the scooter. He tries to lift himself from the cart, but can’t find the right position. “Sir!!!”

The old man finally turns his attention to the grown man in his cart and screams. In his panic, he jerks the wheel violently and the scooter swerves erratically in the aisle way. Stiles screeches as the man loses all control and crashes into a display of hand soap. No longer in motion, Stiles hoists himself from the cart.

“I’m so sorry! It’s the potatoes!!!!” Stiles calls as he runs away.

“Lydia!!! Allison!!!” Stiles shouts as he races down the main aisle.

A woman with a customer service vest on hurries toward him. “Sir, what’s wrong?!”

“POTATOES!!!!!!!!!!” Stiles bellows as he barrels past her. The woman turns her attention to the smoking mobility scooter a few rows back and rushes to help the man covered in liquid hand soap. 

Stiles is so turned around he doesn’t know which way is front and which way is back. He’s about to give up when he finally sees a glimpse of hope. Yes, those are Lydia’s high heels…. He frantically starts waving his hands in the air as he rushes toward them. “Lydia!!!!”

The woman turns toward him and widens her eyes. 

“LYDIA!!! ALLISON!!!”

She starts hurrying toward him, so he motions toward the doors. He hasn’t run this much since he accidentally signed up for the cross-country team. He’s woefully out of breath when she catches him. All he can do is wheeze, “Andrew. Potatoes.”

“What?” The girls ask in unison.

“Come on!” He screams. Mind only on one thing, he has to get to Deaton. 


	16. Potato Casserole

Stiles pulls up his pants with a huff. Though he’s still not sure about the correct amount of weeks, he’s given up arguing the finer points of the issue with Deaton and has agreed to just go along with it. So, he’s about twenty five weeks pregnant.

He hears a seam pop and makes a mental note to ask Mrs. McCall to get the next size of pants ready. Forty pounds. He can’t believe he’s put on forty pounds. Standing in front of the mirror as he gets dressed, he can see each and every one of them.

Derek has been great; he really has. Any comments he made about his weight were purely made out of concern. Once he realized that Stiles was healthy, his worries ceased as did the comments. And, his dad. His dad has been great, too. A few jokes here and there, but nothing that Stiles takes to heart. Unfortunately, it’s the others. Just mentions of weight and what’s normal and how much food he should be eating. Stiles honestly doesn’t think they realize they’re doing it. He loves his friends. He loves the pack. But it doesn’t change the fact that they’re right.

Stiles peers into the mirror. He turns to the side and looks closer. He can’t even pretend to suck it in anymore. 187 pounds. Holy crap. His whole midsection is pretty large and he can say he finally looks pregnant. He’s gained a bit of weight in his face and body as a whole, but it’s honestly mostly in his stomach. Pulling the band up over his stomach, he turns and grabs his shirt.

Stiles doesn’t hold a person’s weight against them. Body positivity is awesome. He hopes everyone feels great in their bodies… but it’s so much harder to be positive about himself. He sits down on the bed, scoots back a bit and then starfishes out on the mattress. Derek will be home soon. He ran to get the last things they needed for pack night from the store. Stiles should be getting ready, but he just lays there and thinks.

He hears the door open and close downstairs. Still, he lays there.

“I’m back,” Derek calls as he walks into the bedroom.

“Hey, babe.”

Derek comes the rest of the way into the room and leans across the side of the bed. He gently pulls Stiles’ shirt up and plants a smacking kiss on Stiles’ belly.

“Stop,” Stiles whines.

“Make me.” Derek continues to press multiple kisses all over Stiles’ stomach. The boy starts to squirm, but he just continues lower.

Stiles bites his lip. He tries to push Derek’s head away, but the wolf keeps going. He finally can’t take it anymore.

Derek smiles as Stiles bursts into a fit of giggles. The boy wiggles and squirms, but Derek pins him down.

“Babe, stop! It tickles!” Stiles laughs loud and hysterically. “Babe!” He makes a strange strangled noise in the back of his throat. “Stop!” he says seriously. “I gotta pee. Oh my gosh, I gotta pee. Stop!!!!”

Derek lets him go, and Stiles rushes off to the bathroom. He sits on the bed to wait on Stiles to get back. When he hears him coming, he turns to look at the door. “Did you make it?”

Stiles glares at him, holding his pants in his hand. “What do you think?”

Derek can’t help but laugh.

“It’s not funny, jerk,” Stiles says as he smacks Derek with the damp jeans. He smiles as he walks toward the closet.

“I’m sorry,” Derek says playfully.

“You should be.”

Suddenly Stiles feels arms wrap around his waist. “Come here,” a hushed voice sends shivers down his spine.

“Der,” Stiles warns. “The pack will be here soon. Remember? One last party before Allison has the baby?”

“Party’s in the backyard,” Derek mumbles into Stiles’ neck.

“And, apparently in your pants,” Stiles counters.

“Stiles…” Derek bends and gently lifts his husband into his arms. He lays him down on the bed and curls around him.

He always knows how to make him feel beautiful.

\---

The problem is, that feeling doesn’t last. Stiles blushes as he and Derek make it out to the party a bit late and adjusts his shirt again. The party goes well until Allison insists on taking pictures to commemorate the event. Stiles, low self-esteem and all, has been silently comparing himself to her all night. Only when the pictures start, do those comparisons get verbalized by the rest of the pack.

Stiles takes a breath and steps away from the group. Scott finds him a few minutes later. “Dude, what are you doing over here?”

Stiles looks up from his spot on the porch steps. “Nothing.”

Scott takes a good look at him. His face is red and so are his eyes. “Stiles, what’s wrong?!”

“It’s nothing.”

“Stiles,” Scott presses.

“It’s just…” Stiles motions to the group. “Ally’s due in, what, a week and a half? Look at her. She looks great. And, look at me. I’m way bigger than her, and I’m barely halfway.”

Scott sits down beside him. “You’re not that big,” he assures him.

“I’ve gained forty pounds,” Stiles whispers.   
“So?”

Stiles gives him a look.

Scott holds up his hands. “Hey, I’ve learned to never comment on someone’s weight.”

“Go ahead and comment on it, everybody else does,” Stiles drops his head and looks at his very interesting shoelaces.

“They what?” Scott turns to look at him fully.

“It’s nothing,” Stiles sighs.

“You mean what we said when we were stupid enough to try an intervention? Because, we’ve apologized for that. We didn’t know. We were seriously worried about you.”

“No,” Stiles shakes his head. “I know you were. All is forgiven.”

“Who’s been saying stuff now?”

Stiles sighs again. “It’s… it’s not that they’re really saying anything to me… It’s just… It’s little side comments that I… that I take personally. I don’t even think they realize.”

“Oh, they’re gonna realize!” Scott stands up abruptly.

Stiles huffs a laugh. “Scotty, you don’t have to go defending my honor. I’m fine.”

“You’re more than my best friend. You’re my brother. They’ve got to know what they’re saying is hurtful.”

Stiles starts to tear up. “Thanks, man.”

“You want to come watch me kick butts?”

“Nah,” Stiles says, standing and stepping up toward the house. “Give me another minute. I’ll be back.”

“Okay.” Scott lets his fangs elongate and marches off toward the pack.

\---

Stiles laughs as he hears a yelp outside. Scott’s clearly serious about his brotherly duties. He’ll make a good dad. Stiles pulls his phone out of his pocket and dials a number.

“Hallo?”

“Hallo, Wujek Olli.”

“Mieczysław. Jak się masz?”

“I’m okay. How are you?”

“Fine. Something is on your mind, tak?”

Stiles sighs. He rubs a hand over his head. “How did you do it?”

“Do what?”

“Exist while being fat and pregnant?”

The older man laughs. “You have answered your own question. I was never just fat. I was pregnant.”

“Just seems like being fat to me,” Stiles mutters.

“My weight never bothered me because I knew my body was doing impossible thing. I know my body know what to do and I let it do.”

Stiles sits down in the living room and groans. “But, I’m gigantic! I’m double what Allison is and only half way along. I look at her and then myself…”

Olbrecht cuts him off. “Why are you compare self to a woman?! Are you woman?!”

“No.”

“Then, why you think it makes sense to compare to woman?!” He mutters something in Polish before continuing. “If you compare to anyone you compare to me and papa Bazyli. I was over seventy and was said he was over eighty. What are you?”

“Forty.”

“Okay. There three tee-meisters.”

“Trimester,” Stiles corrects.

“Tee-meister, tak.”

“No, TRI-MESTER.”

“I have heard it both the ways. Now, you let me talk.”

Stiles smiles as he listens to his uncle.

“You have almost two meisters done. You think half. You have twenty for each of the meisters.” His uncle explains his thought process. “Even if you gain more twenty, you only have sixty total. That is smaller than me! Now think of who you comparing to. What is better? Sixty or seventy?”

“Sixty is better. But, it’s still not normal.” Stiles picks up a pen from a side table in the living room and starts fiddling with it between his fingers.

“How do you know what is normal and what is not?”

“All the birthing books say what I should gain!”

“They all the male birthing books?”

“No.”

“Then, why you compare self to woman?! Mieczysław, you listen to me. If one man eighty and one man seventy. What you get as average?”

Stiles doesn’t speak until his uncle clears his throat. “Seventy-five,” Stiles mumbles.

“Tak. Then what is normal? Seventy-five is normal. You are tiny.”

Stiles rolls his eyes. “I don’t feel tiny. I feel fat and ugly.”

“It’s all in belief, Mieczysław.” His uncle turns serious. “If you believe you are beautiful, then you will be beautiful. And, that is not just iskra  istnienia. That apply to everyone in this human race.”

Stiles clears the emotion out of his throat. “Thanks Uncle Olli.”

“Nie ma za co.” (You’re welcome.)

“Kocham Cię.”

“I love you, too, Mieczysław.”

Stiles sits for a moment after he ends the call. He places a hand on his stomach, far enough along that he can feel slight movement. He thinks of how amazing this is. Thinks of how much time he has wasted being concerned with how he looks. His body is doing something amazing, and that’s really all that matters.

When he goes outside to rejoin the party, he has an actual smile on his face, and it shows.

  
  


\---

On October 14, baby Melanie McCall is born. Not wanting to expose the world to the fact that werewolves and male pregnancy actually exist, Stiles must survive on FaceTime calls and messages until the new family gets home from the hospital. Three days later, he finally has his chance.

Stiles is about ready to bounce out of his skin on the entire ride over. Derek just smiles and puts his hand on his knee. When they arrive, Derek parks, gets out of the car, and goes to help Stiles out.

“You need a family friendly car, babe,” Stiles says as he allows himself to be hoisted out of the seat. “The farther along I get, the worse it’s going to be.”

“I know, Stiles.” Derek reaches into the car and grabs the casserole dish. “Problem is, you won’t let me go car shopping without you but you refuse to be seen in public.” He wraps one arm around Stiles while carrying the dish in the other hand.

“I don’t want people to realize werewolves are real.”

“Don’t go blaming this on werewolves. This is all you and your weird Polish family.”

Stiles snorts a laugh. “Shush it.”

Derek texts Scott to make sure he knows they’re outside, not wanting to ring the doorbell and wake the baby nor just barge in. Scott quietly opens the door and welcomes them in. Stiles sees his best friend and immediately bursts into tears.

“You’re a dad!” he wails.

“I know,” Scott hugs him and begins to cry too. “She’s so beautiful!”

Derek stands awkwardly as the boys hug and sob. He sees Allison walk from the nursery holding the baby and move toward the living room. She stops in front of the group. She looks at Stiles and Scott and rolls her eyes.

“We brought you potatoes,” Derek raises the casserole dish so she can see it.

She smiles. “Thank you.”

“I’ll put them in the refrigerator. Instructions for reheating are written on top of the foil.” Derek puts the potato casserole away and comes back out of the kitchen. Stiles and Scott are still hugging and crying, so he follows Allison into the living room.

“Sit down, and I’ll let you hold her.”

Derek nods and sits down on the seat at the end of the couch. He holds out his arms, and Allison gently places Melanie in the crook of his arm. Derek looks down and sees big, bright eyes staring back at him. “Hello there.”

The two adults talk for a while. Derek finally turns his head and looks over his shoulder. Scott and Stiles are holding onto each other mumbling how amazing the world is and how amazing fatherhood is and how amazing it is how bodies work and amazing this and amazing that.

“How long you think they’ll stand there like that?” Derek asks.

Allison laughs. “Well, they’re pretty bad anyway, but with Scott being sleep deprived and Stiles being hormonal… who knows.” She turns her attention to her husband. “Hey, Scott. How about you bring Stiles in to see the baby?”

“You wanna see Melanie?” they hear Scott ask Stiles. Scott leads Stiles toward the nursery.

“Scott…” Allison calls. She smiles at Derek, “they have no idea we’re in here.”

“He’s a terrible werewolf,” Derek says.

“How long will it take them to realize they’re standing in an empty room?”

Derek and Allison sit together, barely able to contain their anticipation.

All at once… “AHHHH!!! She’s gone!!” Scott screams at the top of his lungs.

Derek looks down at the baby in his arms to make sure it didn’t startle her. When he knows she’s fine, he looks up at Allison. Both of them burst into laughter.

Scott comes charging out of the nursery at full speed with Stiles waddling quickly behind. “I’ll look upstairs you look… well… you just look…”

Stiles does a double take as he sees Derek and Allison laughing in the living room. “Scott. I found them.” He moves to the base of the stairs and calls up, “SCOTT!!! I FOUND THEM!!!!”

Scott comes bounding down the hallway and skids to a stop at the top of the stairs. “Where?!”

“Here,” Stiles motions for him to come down the stairs. “Come on, dude. They’re in the living room.”

“Oh thank goodness.” Scott rushes down the stairs. Stiles puts his hand on his shoulder and leads him into the living room.

“Here,” Derek says to Stiles. “You can hold her.”

“You don’t have to tell me twice,” Stiles says as he sits down beside Derek.

“Hey, baby girl. Hi, darling.” Stiles coos as she is placed in his arms. “I’m your Uncle Stiles.”


	17. Sweet Potatoes

It’s late November, and Stiles has been sleeping a lot more lately. Perfectly blissful days are spent lying in bed with his husband. And, for once in their lives, they’re not doing anything other than lying there.

Derek brushes his fingers across Stiles’ shoulder and back. Stiles hums sleepily and snuggles closer (as close as possible at thirty two weeks pregnant). “You know, we have to get up today,” Derek mumbles before kissing the top of the boy’s head.

“Dunnowhy,” Stiles yawns.

“Yes, you do. We’re hosting Thanksgiving.”

Stiles whines. “Why did we have to do that? Everybody knows I’m pregnant. Why should the pregnant person have to host Thanksgiving?”

Derek laughs. “Well, I’m guessing they let us host it because you begged them to let us host it. And, you almost cried when they told you no. You bribed them with the promise of five different potato dishes…”

“And then I stayed up late making said potato dishes…” Stiles growls. “No wonder I’m so tired.”

Derek smirks but doesn’t say anything. He’ll be content with keeping the knowledge that Stiles fell asleep on the couch while he finished up everything himself. Let Stiles pretend he did it on his own…

“It’s almost 10.” Derek holds Stiles tight. “Let’s get ready.”

Stiles whines again, but he gets up and gets dressed for the day.

\---

Everyone is sleepy after the meal. Turkey will do that to you. And so will the noodles, rolls, corn, green beans, mashed potatoes, potato dumplings, potato casserole, sweet potatoes, sweet potato pie, and pecan pie. Instead of dozing off on the couch or floor like the rest of the pack, Stiles excuses himself to go up and nap in the bedroom instead.

“Ok,” Lydia says, “but, when you wake up, we have to go over some details of your baby shower.”

Stiles smiles. “The book we already started taking notes in is up in the nursery. I’ll grab it on my way back.” He turns and heads up the stairs, shaking his head at the sight of Scott pretending he’s watching the game on TV even though he’s barely conscious- fatherhood sleep deprivation and turkey tryptophan getting the better of him.

Stiles only naps for twenty minutes before he wakes up and has to go to the bathroom. He’s not THAT tired, so he decides to just grab the baby shower notebook and head back downstairs.

He sighs when he enters the empty nursery. January is quickly approaching and there’s literally two packages of diapers stacked on top of each other with a notebook on top. That’s it. No crib, no dresser, no rocking chair… nothing. They need to stop procrastinating and get it done. The problem is, they can’t decide on a theme since they wanted to be surprised by the sex of the baby, and Stiles wants everything to be perfect.

Stiles mumbles under his breath as he waddles over to grab the notebook. As he picks it up, the pencil tucked inside the spiral binding slips out and falls to the floor. He stares at it. Groaning, he tries to decide if he should leave it or if he should try to pick it up. He rubs a hand across his round stomach, looking like he’s thirty two weeks pregnant with twins instead of just one. He talks himself out of trying to pick it up with his toes and whines as he realizes he’ll have to bend over.

He’s down on his knees, grasping the pencil, and ready to stand back up when he suddenly feels his knee pop. He yelps at the jolt of pain and bounces back on his bottom. He extends his leg out and the cramping knee pain easily goes away. He’s happy to know he hasn’t seriously hurt himself, but looks around him sadly. “Crap,” he mutters. He has no idea how he’s going to get up.

Stiles tries to roll to his side so he can get up on his knees and leverage himself back up, but it doesn’t work. He groans. “Derek!” he calls out, embarrassed to have to call his husband to help him up. He could totally do it if he could use a piece of furniture or something, but there’s literally nothing he can use to help him.

“Derek?!” He tries again. “Hello?!!!!!” He sits there. “Oh good grief.”

\---

Laying on the floor, Stiles has no idea of how much time passes. It feels like an eternity but is probably only five minutes. He has no phone to call anyone. Yelling hasn’t done anything. The pack is clearly sound asleep. “Well, this is just great.”

He chews on the end of the pencil letting his mind wander. Man, those potatoes sound good… Potatoes… Potato Farm… Garden… Bunny rabbit eating potatoes in a garden… “Hmmm,” Stiles sits up and stares at the wall in front of him. He scoots himself toward the wall and holds out the pencil…

\---

Scott yawns as he wakes up from his nap. He stands to check on Melanie and accidentally trips on Jackson’s leg where he’s sleeping on the floor.

“Watch it!” he yells.

Lydia startles awake and smacks him. “Oh, be quiet.”

The whole pack slowly wakes up one by one.

“What time is it,” Boyd asks.

Erica looks at the small clock in the corner of the TV. “Four thirty.”

Derek stands and stretches. “We’ve been asleep for three hours.”

“We won’t be staying much longer,” Allison admits. “If we’re going to work on the baby shower, we need to get started.”

“I’ll go get Stiles,” Derek states. He bounds up the stairs and heads toward the bedroom. Walking in, he sees that Stiles isn’t there. His heart nearly stops. He glances around, heads to the bathroom, searches...

Derek leaps down the stairs and rushes to the pack. “Has anyone seen Stiles?!”

“No,” Isaac answers. “I thought he went to bed.”

“He’s not there.”

“Don’t panic,” Scott assures him. “Just breathe and listen. Do you hear him?”

Derek rolls his eyes, embarrassed to be taking advice from Scott of all people. He listens closely and breathes a sigh of relief when he hears the steady beating of Stiles’ heart.” He hurries back upstairs and throws himself into the nursery.

“Stiles!”

The boy looks up at him from his spot on the floor. “Hey,” he announces brightly. “Do ya like it?”

Derek looks from him to the wall. The pencil marks are light, but he can see what the mural will look like when it’s finished. A garden scene filled with a variety of growing vegetables and a little Peter Rabbit stealing a basket of potatoes through a hole in the garden fence.

“It’s amazing, but…” Derek points at the spot Stiles is sitting in… “Why now?”

Stiles smiles. “Why not now? I dropped the pencil and suddenly found myself stuck here with plenty of time on my hands.”

Derek walks to him and holds out his hands to help him up. “Why didn’t you call for help?”

“Gee,” Stiles snarks. “I should have thought of that.”


	18. Christmas Potatoes

Christmas gifts provide the final touches to the Peter Rabbit themed nursery. Stiles looks around the room with a smile on his face.

“It’s perfect,” he says in awe.

Derek steps up behind him and wraps his arms around his waist as far as he can. He kisses Stiles’ neck. “You did a great job.”

Stiles smiles, “Thanks, babe.” He takes one last look and then turns to leave the room. He starts walking down the stairs when Derek stops him.

“What are you doing now?” Derek points to the bedroom. “It’s after 9:00 on Christmas Eve. We should be in bed.”

Stiles smirks at him from his spot halfway down the stairs. “Der-bear, it’s not like we’ve got to be in bed for Santa to come or something…” His eyes sparkle with mischief, “Unless, you want me to dress as Santa and… ya know… come?”  
“Stiles…” Derek blushes. “You know what I mean…”

“Okay, okay. I promise to be done in ten minutes. We’ll be in bed before 9:30. I just want to make sure the potatoes are ready.” Stiles finishes walking down the stairs and turns to look up at Derek who is pouting in the upper hallway. “I promise, babe.”

Stiles waddles to the kitchen and quickly wraps the large potatoes in foil. He throws them on a pan and puts them in the oven. Now all he will have to do is turn the oven on in the morning. He opens the door to the den that sits just off the kitchen and smiles to himself.

“Stiles!” Derek’s voice echoes to him. “It’s almost 9:30.”

Stiles shakes his head and quietly shuts the door. “I’m coming!”

\---

Stiles can’t sleep. It’s partially due to the baby painfully pressing on his hip bone and partially due to the fact that he’s in bed before 10:00. He looks over at Derek. He’s sleeping peacefully even though he’s been jittering out of his skin for the past three hours.

It’s the one night of the year that Derek allows himself to truly be excited. Stiles humors him because Derek deserves nice things. Plus, it’s much better than the horrendously grumpy version the pack got their first few years together.

With Derek’s terrible communication skills and lousy self-worth, no one realized his birthday and Christmas were on the same day for two years. Two whole birthdays and nearly three years of knowing each other. It finally took Stiles snooping in old police records to put it all together once they started dating. And, from then on, Stiles has tried to make the day super special.

He was hesitant at first to ask Peter about old family traditions. He of course ran everything nonchalantly by Derek a few months before his birthday to confirm what Peter told him was true. Now the old Hale traditions are theirs too.

Stiles feels like he is roasting to death in the white and rainbow confetti printed wool pajamas. I mean, really, wool pajamas? In California? In bed? Worn by a pregnant man? The boy doesn’t know how Derek stands it- his body temperature running higher than an average human. Stiles pushes the covers completely off of him and grabs a magazine from the night stand to fan himself with.

He looks at the clock as it ticks toward midnight. With only moments left, Stiles sits up and grabs the confetti popper from the night stand’s drawer. He knows that Derek is already awake and just pretending to sleep. It’s obvious from the slight smirk on his face.

As the clock strikes midnight, Stiles’s phone begins blaring the Birthday Song. Stiles takes the moment to scream “Happy Birthday!!!” and explode the confetti in Derek’s face.

Any other time, Derek would be furious to be covered in glitter and confetti, but now he just smiles.

Stiles stands up and grabs the scarf he had ready. “Derek Hale, close your eyes.”

“No.”

“Your husband says to close your eyes.” The hormones are clearly getting to Stiles this year. He nearly tears up as he imagines this interaction taking place between Derek and his mother instead.

“No.”

Stiles clears the emotion out of his voice. “You leave me no choice,” he says as he wraps the scarf around Derek’s eyes. “Stand up and follow me.”

Derek lets himself be led through the hallway and down the stairs. Stiles weaves him through the house toward the den. He stops Derek in front of the door and opens it. “Would you look at the mess you left in here?!” Stiles pulls the scarf from his eyes. “What do you think this is? Your birthday?”

Finally able to see, Derek looks around the room. His eyes glance over all the balloons resting against the ceiling, the balloons scattered around the floor, the food and cake on the table, and the gifts sitting on the floor.

He smiles, “thanks, Stiles.”

“You’re welcome, babe.” He walks into the den behind Derek. “If you expect me to sit into the floor with you this year, you’re going to have to help me down.”

“You can sit on the couch,” Derek relents. “I know how bad your hips and back have been hurting you.”

Stiles sits down on the couch. “Thanks babe.” He pulls his confetti print pajama shirt back down over his stomach where it had ridden up. He watches as Derek sits down on the ground near the coffee table.

“You also don’t have to eat this with me,” Derek says as he scoops a chunk of lasagna out of the crock pot warming on the table. “It is midnight after all.”

“Oh no. I’m used to the heartburn by now,” Stiles smiles as he reaches out for a plate to start making his own. The Hales held the tradition of making the first half of Christmas special for Derek. From midnight until noon it was all Derek and from noon until midnight it was Christmas.

“Want the spaghetti on yours?” Derek offers while creating his own plate of his favorite meal.

“You know it!” Stiles smiles. His husband scoops a generous portion of spaghetti and meat sauce over the top of Stiles’ slice of lasagna.

They eat while quietly talking about the day. When they finish their meal, Derek clears the plates. Stiles looks at the balloons on the floor and mentally notes where the special one is.

“You ready?” Stiles asks as Derek comes back in.

“Yes,” Derek smiles.

“I don’t understand this game, but let’s get started.”

“It’s more fun when you’re a kid,” Derek shrugs.  
“Hey, no, I get why it’s fun.” Stiles prepares himself to lead the game. “What I don’t understand is why it’s so fun when you’re a werewolf. You can tell which one is the correct balloon very easily.”

Derek laughs. “Because we purposefully got it wrong so we could make a mess.” Derek moves into the pile of balloons. “Okay. I’m ready.”

Stiles nods. “You’re cold.”

Derek shuffles through the pile of balloons to a new spot and stops.

“You’re still cold.”

Derek tries again.

“Cold. Cold. Warmer…” Stiles calls from the couch. “Warmer!!!” Stiles kneels up on the edge of the couch so he has a good view. “Hot! You’re so hot!”

Derek stops and lifts a foot. It hovers above a green balloon. “I’m guessing green.”

“EHHHHHHHHH!” Stiles creates a buzzer sound. “Wrong-o big guy.”

Derek stomps on the green balloon and shaving cream splatters everywhere. He wipes his foot off on the ground. “I’m guessing red.”

“EHHHHHHHHH!”

By the end of the process, jello, cooked macaroni, and a variety of other gross things are smeared across the floor. (Thankfully, Stiles remembered to put a small tarp down this year.)

“Last one,” Stiles smiles.

“I’m guessing blue.”

“Ding ding ding!!!!!”

Derek stomps down on the blue balloon. It pops. Derek picks up the small birthday note that was inside. He opens it, reads the sentiment, and smiles. “Thanks, Stiles.”

“You’re welcome, Der-bear.”

Derek grabs a paper towel to wipe off his foot. “You know, this will be more fun once the baby is born and we celebrate its first birthday.”

“Yeah, it will.” Stiles shrugs as Derek sits down beside him. “But, it’s pretty fun now. Just seeing you happy.”

“I love you, Stiles.”

“Love you, too, babe.” He kisses him. “Okay. Now, open your presents.”

Derek loves all of his gifts- two shirts that cement the fact that he is the best dad in the world, a mug with a wolf on it, and a few things he actually needs.

“Thank you, Stiles.” He kisses his husband again. “Want cake?”

“You’re welcome, and… Of course, I do,” Stiles says pretending to be offended that he would even think he wouldn’t want cake.

The small layer cake looks nothing like any of Derek’s beautiful creations even though he made it. His mother was terrible at decorating, so his childhood birthday cakes always looked very homemade. Derek cuts into the sloppily frosted chocolate cake. A few sprinkles fall off of the slice as he turns it onto the plate. He gives the first slice to Stiles and works to cut his own.

The boys snuggle together in their pajamas on the couch and enjoy the rest of their morning. “Happy Birthday, babe.”

\---

By 12:30, the entire pack is piled into the house. Before they start eating, Stiles passes out a piece of paper to each of the pack members. He asks them to write down something they’re thankful for. As they are finishing, he passes out one of the baked potatoes he prepped last night.

“What are these for,” Scott asks.

“You wrap what you’re thankful for around the potato and then we’re going to put them in the middle of the table,” Stiles explains.

“Why?” is the unanimous answer from the pack.

“Don’t even try to understand it,” Derek shrugs. “He saw this article about a town in Kansas writing notes and attaching them to potatoes and…” Derek waves his hand in the air.

“They actually use raw potatoes and throw them in people’s yards, but I thought, hey, no need to waste the potatoes. So, I thought we’d start a new tradition.”

“This won’t be a new tradition.” The Sheriff shakes his head.

“Why not?” Stiles holds out his hands toward the growing display of potatoes. “I think it’s great.”

“Of course you do.”

They start eating at 1:00 and don’t finish until close to 3:00. Everyone has a great time just talking, eating, and being together.

“PRESENTS!!!!” Erica shouts as everyone finishes up. Stiles and Derek hang back in the kitchen while everyone else heads into the living room.

“Merry Christmas, babe.”

“Merry Christmas, Stiles.”


	19. Potato Bar

It’s late into the pregnancy by the time they finally have the baby shower. Stiles insisted that Uncle Olli be invited, and the only time he could come was early January. So, the pack planned around his schedule. It’s the week of New Year’s when they plan to meet for the party.

“I don’t like this.” Stiles shakes his head where he sits in the passenger seat of Derek’s new ‘dad-mobile’.”

Derek looks over at him. “It will be fine, babe.”

“You know I can’t be out in public looking like a two hundred pound pregnant beluga.”

Derek rolls his eyes. “We’re not going to be out in public.”

Stiles motions around to the passing buildings. “What do you call this? Public!”

“Deaton knows the owners of this banquet hall. They’re trustworthy, and it’s private. No one will see you. No one will find out about werewolves or your weird Polish family.”

Stiles smacks Derek in the shoulder. “It’s not because we’re Polish! Shush it!” He sighs. “I still don’t know why they just didn’t have it at our house. We always do everything at the house.”

Derek nods as he pulls into a parking lot. “I know. That’s why they wanted to have it here. To have something special.”

“It would have been special at the house,” Stiles mumbles. “And the gifts would have already been home. No need to carry them and load them and drag them all the way across town.”

Derek ignores him and gets out of the car. He walks around and opens the door for Stiles. He holds out his hand.

“Is there anyone looking?” Stiles surveys the parking lot.

“No one is here. No one is looking. It’s eight o’clock at night. No one can see you.”

Stiles huffs, takes Derek’s hands, and lifts himself out of the SUV. “Cover me,” he says dramatically as he waddle-sprints to the building. Derek walks along behind him.

“This is so weird. I’m pregnant and in public,” Stiles smiles. “It feels awesome!”

“So happy for you,” Derek monotones.

Allison walks out of a closed room holding her crying child. “Oh! Hey guys!” She bounces the baby from side to side. “Lydia’s almost finished in there. She wants everything to be perfect, so don’t go in just yet.”

“That’s fine.” Stiles finds a chair and sits down in it.

“Want to work your magic for me,” Allison asks Derek motioning Melanie toward him.

“Sure,” he responds reaching out for her. As soon as she is in his arms, she stops crying and looks up at him with wide eyes.

“Geez,” Stiles whines. “I hope our kid does that well with you.”

“I’m the Alpha. She knows.” Derek smiles down at his god-daughter.

Lydia comes out of the banquet room looking frazzled for only a moment. She fixes her hair and turns on her beaming smile. “It’s ready!”

Stiles insists on getting up out of the chair himself. Then, the group heads into the room. The decorations are perfect, of course. It’s nothing over the top, but there are enough details to make it subtly special. It’s a garden theme to match the nursery theme. Stiles loves it all, but his eyes definitely linger on the food.

Potato Bar.

“This is amazing!” He gives Lydia a big hug. “Can I just start eating now?”

“No,” she pulls him away and forces him to sit down. “Wait until the guests arrive.”

“The guests,” Stiles giggles. “It’s just the pack, Lyds.”

“They’re still guests.”

\---

They’re still waiting for Olbrecht half an hour later. Stiles is bemoaning the fact that his precious potatoes are getting cold.

“They’re on warmers,” Allison assures him. “Everything will be hot.”

Stiles sighs and then sees his uncle coming through the door.

“Hallo! I am late. I apologize.” He walks over to Stiles and gives him a hug. “I get directions turned around.”

“It’s okay, Uncle Olli.” Stiles stands up and immediately heads to the buffet. “Guest of honor gets to go first.”

When he heads back to his spot at the table, he has grabbed one of each thing. A baked potato loaded with all the fixings including tater tots. A martini glass filled to the brim with mashed potatoes, because of course Lydia saw that in a wedding magazine and immediately thought of Stiles. A plate filled with french fries with a palette of dipping sauces. The list goes on.

“This is the best day of my life,” Stiles mumbles around a mouthful of curly fries. He swallows and looks at his uncle. “Do the cravings immediately go away once I pop the kid out?”

Olli laughs. “Slowly. A few weeks after birth I was eating pierogi like normal person again.”

“So,” Stiles says around another bite. “When you got pregnant again, it wasn’t really a surprise because you were already used to the cravings?”

“Not exactly,” Olli shakes his head. “When I was with the twins, I had different cravings.”

“Really? ‘Cuz I remember you eating pierogies all the time when we visited.”

“I still loved the potatoes, tak. But, I also really loved the masło orzechowe.” Olli takes a bite of his mashed potatoes. “Peanut butter is not popular in Poland. I grew up not enjoying it. Suddenly with the twins… so good! Oh!” he points his fork toward Stiles. “You melt the masło orzechowe and pour it over your mashed potatoes like gravy, tak. Delicious!”

Even Stiles turns green with that image in his mind. “Nah, I think I’ll stick with peanut butter and chocolate instead of… that…”

“You ever do that,” Derek whispers to him, “and I will leave you.”

“Hey!” Stiles smacks him. “You would not.” He kisses him on the cheek. “When you get up, get me another martini, dahhhhling,” Stiles says in his best high class accent.

“More potatoes it is.” Derek stands up and goes go get another helping.

\---

The gifts are great. Stiles tells the pack that they really didn’t have to get him anything else. They’ve been gifting things to him since they found out he was pregnant. But, Stiles can’t help but laugh when he pulls out a costume for the baby’s first halloween that looks like a burlap bag of potatoes.

“Yes!!! This is awesome!” He smiles. “Thanks, guys.”

\---

It’s late when Derek and Stiles get home. Derek carries the clothes and gifts up to the nursery as Stiles stretches out on the couch. The boy is almost asleep by the time Derek comes back downstairs.

Stiles feels Derek sit down beside him. The wolf tried to be quiet in case Stiles was asleep, but he’s not. “Can you believe we’re going to have this baby in ten days?” Stiles whispers.

“No.”

“It’s crazy, right?” Stiles moves his hand over his stomach. “And I could go into labor before that… So, really ten days is about the most we have to wait.”

\---

Ten days is not the most they have to wait. All day on January 15th, Stiles is anxious. The due date comes and goes. In a panic, Stiles calls Deaton and Olli in a group chat. They explain to him that a due date is just a prediction. It’s nothing exact.

January 16th.

January 17th.

“I give up!” Stiles shouts. He’s been eating spicy potato dumplings for the past two days. He throws his fork down. “This spicy food thing is a lie. I feel no closer to labor than I did two days ago!”

January 18th.

January 19th.

Stiles has made two laps around the entire preserve when Derek finally pulls him toward the house. “Stiles, walking is not helping. The baby’s just not ready yet.”

“I’m four days late, Derek. I want this baby out of me.”

“Even you said that you thought Deaton was wrong about the due date,” Derek sighs. “Remember all your complaining about your menstrual cycle and date of conception?”

“CRAP!!!” Stiles whines as he enters the Hale house. “Derek, I might have another week!”

January 20th.

January 21st.

“I don’t know how much longer I can do this,” Stiles complains to Deaton during his check up.

“You won’t have to wait much longer,” Deaton assures him. “The baby seems to have dropped. You’re carrying much lower.”

Stiles sits up from the exam table and glares at Deaton. “How much longer?”

“A few days at most.”

January 22nd.

January 23rd.

January 24th.

“DEATON, IT HAS BEEN A FEW DAYS!!!!!!” Stiles screams into the phone. “I’m 211 pounds of nervous energy here.”

“Your uncle said that you need to be calm.”

“I can’t be calm. This child is still inside of me almost ten days after it was supposed to be. This spark thing inside of me is going crazy. I literally just exploded a light bulb with my anxiety.”

“This is why I wanted to train you, but no. He said training wouldn’t help. Stiles, all I can say is that you need to relax. The baby will come when it’s supposed to come.”

January 25th.

January 26th.

January 27th.

January 28th.

“HOOOOOOOOOOOLY CRAP!” Stiles moans through a contraction so strong he’s surprised his body doesn’t split in half. He leans into his husband for support. “What if I can’t do this?”

“Stiles,” Derek assures him, “you’re going to do great.”


	20. Welcome, Little Tater Tot

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn’t intentionally write a graphic birth, but reading it back I realize it could be a little squeamy. I don’t think it’s TOO bad, but Squeamish look away.

“I’m not doing so great, Der,” Stiles says as he lays in bed. He’s been having contractions all day, but nothing has happened yet.

Derek wipes a hand over Stiles’ head. “Deaton says you’re good.”

“I’m hot and sweaty and in constant pain that only gets worse once every ten minutes. How is this good?”

“Your body is doing good. It’s doing what it’s supposed to do.”

“No, it’s not,” Stiles whines. “Uncle Olli went into very specific detail. He said the contractions start first and then… Though I’ve tried to repress the memory, I know for a fact he said the words ‘opening’, ‘spreading’, ‘gushing’, and other things I can’t repeat.” Stiles flails his hands around. “Well, I have the contractions. Where’s all the other horrific th…”

Stiles’ voice cuts off as another contraction wracks his body. His face scrunches in pain and Derek tries to take the pain he can. Stiles breathes deeply a few times.

Derek looks at his phone. “That was only nine minutes apart.”

“Great,” Stiles moans. “They’re getting closer together. Maybe you should try to call Olli again.”

Derek gives in and calls Olbrecht’s number. There’s no answer.

\---

After leaving three voicemails on Olli’s phone, Stiles is now screaming in pain every five minutes. In the early morning hours of the 29th, Deaton came out to the house to stay with them through the birth. It’s almost noon.

“I can’t do this!!!!!” Stiles shouts in an absolute panic.

“Stiles, babe, calm down.”

“I’ve been having contractions for a full twenty four hours!!!!!! I will not calm down!!!!!” Stiles screams as another contraction hits. “Hoooooly cheese balls!!!!”

“Deaton,” Derek pleads. “Isn’t there something we can do?”

The vet motions for Derek to step out of the room. Derek squeezes Stiles’ hand and follows the man into the hallway.

“Contractions can last this long. Any longer than this would be prolonged labor. There are several things that can cause prolonged labor. One of those things being the birth canal is too small for the baby to move through. Seeing as he has no birth canal, I’m guessing that’s the reason.”

Derek glares at him. “Then, what do you suggest we do?” he bites out, digging his claws into his palms to stop himself from mauling Deaton for that stupid comment.

“His uncle said that everything would just form. He said if Stiles believes it will happen then it will happen.”

Derek crosses his arms across his chest. “Look, if I go back into that room and look at my husband who has had contractions EVERY FIVE minutes for the past ten hours and tell him ‘just believe,’ he’s going to quite literally rip my head off. I need to know what to do!”

“I’ll call his uncle again. Hopefully, we get an answer this time.”

Stiles screeches in absolute agony as Derek enters the room. He rushes to him and tries to pull his pain away.

“I believe it,” Stiles cries. “I believe, I swear I do. As much as I was dreading the thought of female things forming where they shouldn’t be, after this pain I WANT them to form. I don’t care if they stay there PERMANENTLY after this. I believe it will happen, but it’s not happening! Derek, what do I do?”

Derek bites his lip. He hates the feeling of being incapable of helping his mate. “Maybe…” he clears his throat. “Maybe believe a little harder. Do something to clear your mind and focus just on that.”

Stiles sniffs. “Okay. So, I gotta just breathe, and…” Stiles closes his eyes. He chews on his bottom lip as he breathes in and out. He acts as if he’s finally calming down right as another contraction hits.

Derek feels like crying. He can’t take all of the pain, and he doesn’t know what to do. He looks up quickly as Deaton enters the room. “Did you get him?”

Deaton shakes his head. “No. I left another voicemail message. I called Melissa. She’s having Scott help her sneak some machines out of the hospital. I want to be able to monitor the baby and make sure it’s not in distress.”

“I’m in distress,” Stiles whines. “I don’t know how much longer I can do this. If I’m still pregnant in February, I swear heads will roll!!!!!”

\---

Scott rushes into the room with the fetal heart rate monitor and puts it down on the dresser. Stiles is writhing in pain on the bed.

“Hey, buddy. How ya doing?”

Stiles glares at his so-called best friend. “How does it look like I’m doing?” he grits through his clenched teeth.

“Maybe you should just…”

Derek waves his hands at Scott to just shut up, but the idiot continues.

“...ya know… push?”

“Push?” Stiles repeats. “Maybe I should just PUSH?!” He leans toward Scott. “Oh gee, Scotty, I didn’t think of that!!!! How the heck do you expect me to push when there’s nowhere for the baby to come out of!”

Scott glances at his mother as she sets up the machine. He turns back to Stiles, “It’s… what about your… you know…”

Even through his pain, Stiles tries to lunge toward his friend. Derek holds him down. “Let me at him! Oh for freakin… It’s not coming out of my butt, Scotty!!!! What the heck, dude!”

“Well,” Scott whines. “That’s the only logical…” Scott turns pale. “Oh gosh, dude, you mean…”

“It’s just supposed to appear but nothing is appearing!” Stiles groans. “It’s not as simple as shouting “Presto Change-o” and pulling a rabbit out of a hat.”

“Here, Stiles,” Melissa says. “Just lean up a little, and I’ll wrap this around you.”

Stiles starts to do as he’s told but freezes as another contraction hits. Melissa gently presses her hand against his stomach. “Deaton, these are strong contractions.”

“No kidding,” Stiles whimpers.

“We’ll figure it out, honey.” She wraps the band around him and gets everything connected to the machine.

\---

Derek always loved the grandfather clock Boyd and Isaac built him for a wedding gift. The haunting chimes filled the house with pleasant memories of his childhood. But now, as the chimes ring in January 30th, he hates that stupid clock. He has left the room long enough to get a drink of water. He leans against the counter as the weight of the past days finally hits him. He’s tired, but he knows Stiles is absolutely exhausted.

Even though the labor wasn’t progressing, Deaton and Melissa assured everyone that the baby was doing well for the first few hours. But as the hours went on and afternoon changed into evening and evening changed into night, the monitor started showing signs of trouble. The contractions kept coming, but Stiles is too weak to scream. Now just after midnight, Stiles lies limply on the bed and moans every few minutes. He’s starting to run a fever and within the past thirty minutes he’s begun to throw up.

The Sheriff walks into the kitchen and places a hand on Derek’s shoulder. “How are you holding up?”

Derek straightens. “Better than Stiles.” He puts the glass down on the countertop. “We’re going to have to take him to the hospital. Male or not, we’ve got to do something.”

The man sighs, “Olbrecht said it will happen. All the notes he left in that book say that it will happen. Maybe we need to help Stiles by believing it will.”

“I don’t know, Noah.” Derek shakes his head. “What if…”

His phone rings. He glances at the screen and immediately answers. “Olli! Where have you been?!” Derek is immediately rushing upstairs to the bedroom.

“We had giant snowstorm. Power was out for three days. I apologize greatly, but phone was dead and no way to charge it.”

Derek bounds into the room and puts the phone on speaker. “Stiles is in labor. He has been for two whole days. Nothing is happening, what do we do?”

“Can Stiles hear me?” Olli asks.

“Yes,” Stiles moans.

“You have to focus.” Olli says. “Derek, help him stand up.”

“Don’t know if I can,” Stiles whines.

“You can,” Derek says. He lifts Stiles to his feet and supports him. “Okay, he’s standing. Now what?”

From the phone, Olli says, “Imagine pressure. Pressure builds.” There’s a pause. “Do you feel it?”

“Yes,” Stiles groans. “I don’t have to imagine it.”

“Good.” Olbrecht clears his throat. “Iskra istnienia is in that pressure. Feel pressure building. Pressure getting lower and lower. Stronger and stronger.” His voice is mesmerizing. 

Stiles screams as he clings to Derek. “I gotta push. I gotta push.”

“Not yet, Mieczysław. The pressure is strong, tak? Feel it build. More and more,” he chants. “Stronger. Stronger. You are ready. Now, feel it release.”

In that moment, fluid gushes out of Stiles in a display that rivals any tsunami movie scene. The boy fully collapses into Derek’s arms.

“Ahhh,” he moans. “That felt great!”

“You’re doing it, Stiles,” Derek smiles at him choosing to ignore the moisture soaking into his shoes. “You’re doing it!”

Derek and Melissa help Stiles lie back on the bed in a horizontal position. Deaton covers Stiles’ lower half for modesty’s sake. Stiles jumps when Deaton places his fingers somewhere he definitely shouldn’t be able to be.

“You feel that?” Deaton asks.

“Yep!” Stiles blushes but with his face flushed with pain no one notices.

“Next contraction, I need you to push.”

“You don’t have to tell me twice!” Stiles curls and bears down as hard as he can.

“Great!” Deaton removes his fingers. “That’s great, Stiles. I felt the head. It’s a little ways up, but it won’t be long. Three… maybe four strong pushes.”

One.

Two.

“Yes!!!” Melissa shouts encouragement. “Oh, honey, you’re almost there!”

Three.

“Got it. Stiles, stop pushing,” Deaton calls. “The head’s out. Here we go. Okay. Little push!”

Stiles screams at the feeling of instant relief that rushes over him, and, suddenly, there’s a baby on his stomach instead of in it. There’s screaming and crying all around. Deaton instructs Melissa to keep Stiles occupied as he begins ensuring everything is out of the magical uterus as it should be.

“What is it?” Stiles sobs. “I have too many tears in my eyes, I can’t… I can’t see…”

Melissa laughs. “It’s a girl, honey.”

“Stiles, you did it,” Derek can’t help the tears flowing down his face, and he doesn’t even care. He leans into Stiles and kisses his sweaty forehead. “Babe, you did it! I love you so much.”

“I love you. I love you. So much. So, so much,” Stiles responds. He pulls his eyes away from Derek and his baby girl and looks around the room. “Dad, come here.”

The Sheriff wipes his eyes and moves closer to the bed. “She’s beautiful, Stiles. I can’t believe she’s here.”

“She’s here.” Stiles smiles loopily. “Oh my gosh, Derek, she’s here! We’re parents!”


	21. One Potato, Two Potato, Three Potato

For the first two days after having baby Laura, Stiles is so tired he is almost completely incapacitated. He’s thankful for an amazing husband, father, and pack that is able to care for the poor, motherless child.

“She’s not a poor, motherless child, Stiles.” Derek gently takes Laura from Stiles’s arms and places her in a bassinet beside the bed. “Stop mumbling things and go to sleep.”

“I want to take care of her…” Stiles yawns. “I really do, but…”

He’s sound asleep before he finishes voicing his thoughts. Derek smiles and bends over to kiss the boy’s head. He unlocks the base of the bassinet and lifts the nifty contraption into his arms. He carries it downstairs to the living room.

“He out?” The Sheriff asks.

Derek nods. “Like a light.” Derek picks Laura up and places her in the man’s outstretched arms. “He wants to help out more, he really does, but he can barely keep his eyes open.”

“Olbrecht says it’s normal,” the grandfather grabs a cloth to wipe some drool from Laura’s mouth. “His body is recovering from a major change… even more major than a normal pregnancy. He’ll start feeling better soon.”

“I know.” Derek hears his phone vibrate and looks at the incoming message. He smirks. “Lydia wants another picture.”

The Sheriff sits up straighter and points his arms at the phone camera. “Smile, Laura.”

\---

Derek is cooking breakfast when he hears some commotion in the living room. He glances through the doorway in time to see Allison rushing past him. He quickly follows her.

“Hey,” Allison calls out as she nears the staircase. “What do you think you’re doing?!”

Derek looks up, and sure enough, Stiles is slowly making his way down the stairs. Derek hurries beside him as Allison reaches out and grabs the boy’s hand.

“I’m fine, guys. Sheesh…” he lets himself be led the rest of the way down the stairs. He only wobbles once. “Where’s Laura?”

“She’s sleeping in here,” Allison says as she helps Stiles sit down. “I’ve been keeping an eye on her.”

“Thanks, Ally,” Stiles yawns against his own will.

“You should be in bed,” Derek growls.

“I should be taking care of my child,” Stiles grouses.

“You’ll be able to take care of her for eighteen years. A few days of help won’t hurt,” Allison pats his shoulder.

“I swear I’m feeling better,” he yawns again. “It’s about time. She’s two full days old as of midnight.”

Allison looks at Stiles. His body looks nearly the same as it did before he got pregnant. “Wow,” she shakes her head. “Three days and you look great. It took me months to look that good.”

Stiles yawns so large his jaw pops. He holds up his hand when he sees Derek glaring at him. “I swear I’m fine!” He turns back to Allison. “I weighed myself after I peed. 160, baby!” He holds out his hand to fist bump her.

She just rolls her eyes and stands up. “Derek, I think the bacon is burning. I’ll get it. You stay with him.” Allison moves into the kitchen and continues working on breakfast.

Derek sits down beside Stiles and the boy immediately scoots to him for cuddles. The wolf rests his chin on the top of his husband’s head. “You sure you’re okay?”

“Yes, babe.” Stiles laughs. “I feel like I’m back among the living today.”

“How’s your…” Derek blushes. “Your… Down there?”

Stiles honks a laugh. “It’s fine. Sealed up. Gone. Good as new.”

“Thank goodness.” Derek’s eyes can’t hide the horror they witnessed. “You were delirious when you mentioned that it might be fun if…”

Stiles immediately clamps his hand over Derek’s mouth. “You will never mention that again!”

\---

“Daddy, more.”

Stiles looks at the two year old’s plate. “No more, Laura.”

The girl who is the spitting image of Derek frowns at him. “But want more,” she grumbles as she points to her dish.

Stiles sighs. “Laurie-Tot, you just ate a whole peanut butter and jelly sandwich. You don’t need any more.”

“Pea butter jam! Daddy!” she squeals from her spot at the table.

“No.”

Her lip turns down in a frown. Suddenly, her eyebrows completely disappear. Stiles gives her his best Dad-glare. “Laura. No.”

A rumbling growl is quietly heard and slowly builds. Stiles stares her down, but she doesn’t give up. Tears build up behind her beautiful eyes. “No, Laura. Wolfie tantrum won’t work. Making yourself cry won’t work. You’re two years old, you don’t need more.”

The wail she emits is piercing. Stiles flinches and covers his ears. He stands in awe as every lightbulb in the room begins flickering and rattling in their sockets. “Okay…”

Laura doesn’t pay any attention to him as she continues to cry. She’s too smart for her own good. She sees Monster’s Inc one freaking time, realizes she has the same powers as Boo, and the Hale family is never the same again.

“Okay! Okay! Okay!” Stiles yells over the noise. Stiles stands and moves to the counter. He opens the jars and waves the butter knife around. “See! I’m making your sandwich!”

She instantly stops and eyebrows spring back into place. She smiles as she looks at Stiles. “Thank-oo, Daddy.”

It’s freaky.

\---

Stiles is just finishing making the sandwich when Derek walks through the door. Laura springs out of her seat at the table and races toward the front door.

“Papa! Papa!” She leaps into the air fully trusting that Derek will catch her.

He catches her with ease and tosses her onto the couch. She lays very still as he begins to exaggeratedly stalk toward her. He lets his fangs and claws extend as he leans over the top of her. She does her best not to laugh as she smiles at him. Her eyes glance to a spot somewhere over his shoulder and she minutely nods her head. Derek pretends to not see it.

“Bad dog!” Stiles shouts as he smacks Derek with a newspaper.

Derek whines and moves away from the couch.

“Laurie-Tot, did that big bad wolfie scare my baby?!” Stiles leans over her and pretends to check her for injuries. 

She just giggles. Stiles is too busy blowing raspberries onto her tummy to see her glancing over his shoulder.

He actually jumps when Derek roars. The older man grabs him by the hips and pulls him off his feet. “Ahh!” Stiles screeches as he dangles in the air. “Derek, put me down!

Laura stands on the couch and climbs up on the back of it. Derek drops Stiles down on the couch.

“No.” Stiles warns them as he sees two sets of eyes turned on him. “You guys!”

“Rarrr,” Laura growls as she slowly moves toward him.

“Laura, put your eyebrows back!” He looks at Derek who is slowly approaching him and flashing his eyes. Stiles gulps, “Derek, you’re teaching her bad habits. Guys…” Suddenly Laura launches herself on top of Stiles. He catches her seconds before she crashes into his stomach. Derek attacks next and suddenly he’s being tickled. He cackles and fights against them. “Aha!!! No!” He laughs until he can barely breathe. “AHHHH!!!! Time! Time!!!!”

The wolves move back, and Stiles rushes to the bathroom to relieve himself. When he comes back he looks at them in awe. He points between the two of them sitting on the couch. “What… What is this?!”

Laura shoves a second handful of fries into her chubby cheeks. “Fwench Fwies, Daddy. Papa bought me Fwench Fwies.”

“Derek…”

Derek shrugs his shoulders. “She asked me to bring her French Fries. What’s the harm in that?!”

Stiles complains. “Because, Derek, she’s already had a peanut butter and jelly sandwich.” He whines and looks at the ceiling. “Speaking of… Laura, your sandwich is in the kitchen. Are you going to eat it?”

“Nope,” she smiles. “Papa bought me Fwench Fwies.”

Stiles rolls his eyes. He goes into the kitchen and grabs the sandwich. He stomps into the living room and takes a bite out of it before flopping down on the couch.

Derek sighs, “You don’t even like peanut butter. Why are you eating it?”

“Because,” Stiles swallows around the mound of bread in his mouth, “I will not contribute to this country’s problem with food waste.” He takes another bite. “Plus,” he swallows. “It’s not THAT bad.”

\---

Stiles sits down and sneaks his hand into Laura’s trick or treat bucket. He smiles as Derek carries the sleeping poodle up to her room. He aims his camera at them and shoots a few more shots. He puts the camera down and leans back into the couch. He unwraps one of the Reeses Cups and puts it into his mouth. He moans in pleasure as he relishes the taste of his favorite candy.

“I got her costume off, and she’s in bed,” Derek states a few moments later. He sits down and smacks the black and orange wrapped candy out of Stiles’ hand. “Babe, your stomach ache isn’t going to get any better if you keep stealing Laura’s candy.”

Stiles whines but curls into Derek’s side. “It’s only 9 o’clock. You want to watch a movie?”

“Sure,” Derek turns the tv on and flips through the channels.

“Hold up,” Stiles makes him go back a few channels. “There.”

“Food Network?” Derek asks.

“Yeah, they have that Halloween Baking Championship every year. I haven’t seen the last two episodes of it.” Stiles rests his head on Derek’s shoulder. “See,” he points to the screen. “You should make something like that.”

Derek props his feet up on the coffee table. “You know I like to come up with my own recipes.”

“I know, I know. But,” Stiles insists, “you could get inspiration. You’re prepping for your second book, remember? You need all the ideas you can get.”

They watch an episode and a half before Derek stands up and stretches. “You can watch all you want, but I’m going to bed.”

“Okay, babe,” Stiles kisses him when he leans down. “I just want to see who wins. Then, I’ll be up.”

“Okay.”

It’s midnight when Stiles opens his eyes. He unfortunately fell asleep before he got to see who won. He yawns and stretches out his arms. Glancing to the screen, he sees another competition show has started. The contestants are running through a set that looks like a grocery store and choosing ingredients for their dish. In a mid-show interview, a woman appears on the screen describing what she intends on making. Who’s ever heard of peanut butter on a hamburger? Stiles shakes his head and flips the television off.

He quietly changes into a pair of lounge pants in the bedroom and slides into bed beside his husband. Derek immediately wraps his arms around Stiles and burrows his head into the crook of his neck.

“Love you.”

“Love you, too.”

\---

Stiles twists and turns in the sheets. He can’t get comfortable, and he can’t get his mind to settle down. How would a hamburger with peanut butter on it actually taste? Did the judges like it? He wishes he would have finished watching the episode.

He grabs his phone and heads downstairs. Google is amazing. Who would have thought there’d be at least five different recipes for the crazy combination? He moves into the kitchen and starts putting together everything he needs.

It’s a gorgeous sight. He considers taking a picture of it but decides to just eat it instead. He combined two recipes so the peanut butter is inside the patty as well as melted on top. He picks up the sandwich and takes a bite.

Stiles moans as the delicious taste explodes in his mouth. “Oh yum.” Then, he freezes. The words ‘you don’t even like peanut butter’ ring in his mind. He thinks back to the last few weeks. The peanut butter sandwich. Those little peanut butter dipped pretzel samples at the grocery store. The candy he stole from his poor unsuspecting daughter’s trick or treat stash. This hamburger… Peanut butter’s the common link between basically anything he’s been snacking on lately. “Oh crap!”

\---

“Remember what you’re supposed to do?” Stiles asks as he pulls Laura’s shirt down over her head.

“Yes, Daddy.”

“You sure?”

“Yes, Daddy.” She shrugs. “I go and hug Papa like I always do.”

“Yep,” Stiles nods. He nods and looks in the mirror to make sure the numbers two and three as well as the pictures ironed onto his shirt are just perfect.

“He’s here!” Laura whispers excitedly.

Stiles looks at her. Her head cocked to the side listening. “Okay. Here we go!”

Laura takes off running out of the room and is half way down the stairs by the time Derek shuts the door. “Papa!!!”

“Hey, Laurie-Tot!” Derek catches her as she leaps into his arms. He kisses her cheek and gently tugs on one of her pig-tails. “What are you smiling about?”

She continues to grin as she points to her shirt. Derek holds her away from him so he can read it. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You supposed to ask Daddy.”

He hoists her to his hip and starts walking up the stairs. “Stiles!”

“Yeah, babe?” Stiles calls from the bedroom.

“What’s ‘One Potato’ supposed to mean?”

Stiles smiles and tucks the A and B ultrasound pictures into his back pocket. Then, he goes to greet his husband.

End.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for joining me on this journey. Your comments and support have brought me joy!


End file.
